The Hall Of the Mountain King
by Sealgirl
Summary: (COMPLETE) When the kids run into a Clan of steel-loving Troglodytes, can Hank solve Dungeonmaster's riddles before time runs out?
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Erm, yes, well, I think I might "borrow" one for the time being…

STORY: Set after the story "Interlude", but it is not necessary to read it to understand this, since this is NOT a sequel.

In fact, this time, it's only referenced obliquely. That's the good news. But there are spoilers for the story "Only Heroes Make it Home" at some point, and some of the characters are mentioned in passing. That's the bad news.

RATING: PG-13

THANKS: Yes, ever more thanks to all my friends who keep reading these stories, and a particular thanks to Aly Teima , Rana Kane, Tracey 23 and Sandy G. Thank you all for your comments!

* * *

The Hall of the Mountain King.

Chapter 1

The Road Goes Ever Upward.

Presto the Magician gave a nice, big yawn and stretched. The suns were heading for the horizon in the west, and some of the brightest stars were out already. He was in no mood to move at the moment; they had been walking uphill for the whole day and it was surprisingly comfortable on the rock he was sitting on. It had a great view across the mountains too.

'Aw, Hank,' he said. 'Can't we take a longer rest?'

Hank the Ranger shook his head. He was sitting close by on a rock of his own, beside Sheila the Thief, his Bow propped up to one side.

'As soon as Eric's caught up, we're going,' he said firmly. 'We have to keep travelling south, there's bound to be a city there. We have a Wizard to find!'

'But doesn't Eric need a rest too, Hank?' replied Presto, leaning back. 'I mean, he's got all the armour to carry and…'

Bobby the Barbarian gave a snort that was quickly echoed by the baby unicorn that was sitting by his side.

'Eric should get more exercise!' said the Barbarian with a cheeky grin. 'All he's done over the past few days is stay in bed!'

The Magician frowned. OK, so that was true, but the poor guy deserved a break, even a short one. The Cavalier always hated uphill walks. He'd complained constantly since they'd left the town and had tried his best to dissuade Hank and the others from coming this way.

Presto looked at Sheila, hoping she would say something. But she was leaning back to gaze up towards the darkening sky, too busy resting to get involved. No one else spoke. They were all enjoying the relative quiet and calm that was inevitable when they walked uphill: Eric was just too far behind.

'There's still daylight left,' said Hank, looking westwards impatiently. 'Perhaps an hour if we're lucky. There's enough time to make camp. But we'll need to get going.'

Sitting on the ground beside him, Diana the Acrobat gave a small sigh.

'He'll get here eventually,' she said, and as if on cue, Eric the Cavalier staggered into sight, a few hundred yards down the mountainside.

The group watched in silence as he walked up to join them and plonked himself down on the ground beside Presto's rock. His cheeks were red and there was a shine of sweat on his forehead.

Presto had noticed Eric finishing his bottle of water off earlier and handed him his own. He took a long, greedy drink.

'Hey, thanks,' said the Cavalier breathlessly, handing it back. He looked at the Ranger, who was already preparing to leave. 'I can't wait 'til we get outta this mountain range,' he said. 'Is a bit of grassland too much to ask?'

'Once we're over this pass, there shouldn't be any more big mountains between us and the valley,' said Hank. 'That good enough?'

Eric glanced warily up at him, an eyebrow raised.

'Depends on how you define "big",' he said. The two boys looked at each other for a few seconds, then Hank stood up.

'The sooner we go, the sooner we'll get this over with.'

'Oh c'mon, guys!' huffed Eric. 'Gimme a couple of minutes. Please?' He glared at the group. 'You've all had a rest.'

Diana gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

'Well, you shouldn't be so slow,' she told him with a grin. 'Your just out of practice, Eric!'

'Huh! Very funny!' The Cavalier looked back at Hank. 'We could have gone round, you know.'

Again, Hank and Eric stared at each other, and for a few seconds Presto thought that Eric would say something else. But then the Cavalier shrugged and pulled himself off the ground.

'Fine! Let's get going!' he snapped. 'After all, I would hate to be the one who proved you wrong!'

Hank gave a grudging smile as the Cavalier stomped past.

'C'mon mighty-midget,' Eric said to the Barbarian, who was still resting beside his unicorn. 'No slacking!'

Bobby stuck his tongue out at the Cavalier's back, making his sister Sheila frown in disapproval. But the unicorn beside him just glared, looking at Eric very suspiciously. It was an odd look, and one that Uni had continually used with the Cavalier over the past week. Uni had always been wary of Eric, but these days she hardly went near him. No one else seemed to have noticed.

One by one the others stood. Bobby and his unicorn started after Eric, Hank following just behind with Diana the Acrobat.

Presto stood up too, twisting his Hat nervously in his hands. That little interlude in Mindril had unsettled him. Everything was back to the way it should be, but he could still remember what had happened. And sometimes, when he least expected it, the memories would pop back up. He looked at his Hat, but instead of worrying about it, he noticed a movement at his side. Sheila was standing next to him.

'You OK, Presto?' she asked.

He smiled. Trust the Thief to notice he was feeling a bit off.

'I'll be OK, thanks Sheila,' he said.

'What were you thinking about? Was it about…that?' The last word was just a whisper.

'Well, no, not really,' he admitted. 'I was just thinking about my Hat.' He pulled the weapon onto his head. 'It's nothing.'

Now that was the understatement of the century! His Hat, his wonderful weapon in this Realm; it was the wonderful, dumb weapon that had almost spelled them out of existence, permanently. He hadn't used it since that night, he'd been too nervous to try. But sooner or later, he was gonna have to use it again and that was not something he was looking forward to. Sheila was still watching him carefully.

'You know, I'm sure Dungeonmaster could help you with the Hat,' she said. 'If you asked him.'

Presto nodded.

'Yeah, but when's he around for long enough to ask?' he replied with a sigh. 'It's not fair. You guys don't need help with your weapons, you all do fine. It's just me and the stupid Hat.'

'Don't say that Presto!' she told him. 'The Hat's really powerful.'

Presto shrugged.

'I know, but…well, it doesn't make it any easier.'

She smiled more widely and made no reply.

They walked on together, and it didn't take long for everyone to overtake the Cavalier. Bobby and Uni walked in front, with Hank and Diana close behind. Presto walked next to Sheila for the rest of the evening, with Eric clinking along at a slow but steady pace a long way behind them.

Neither he nor the Thief had spoken for a while when he smelt it, a cross between rotting meat and vinegar only worse. It hit like a truck, stinging the back of his nose and throat. He could remember creating some impressive smells from his chemistry set back home, but even stink-bombs paled when compared to this. Around him, the others were all pulling faces.

'Ew,' said Bobby, holding his nose. 'Dis place sdinks!'

Beside him, Uni had her nose close to the ground and was swinging her head back as forward. Her eyes were watering and she was giving little coughs.

'What is it?' asked Diana. 'It smells like dead animals.'

Hank was looking round, a frown on his face.

'Dunno, but we outta make a camp soon,' he said. 'It's getting late.'

'We can't stay here!' said Diana. 'It's horrible!'

Hank nodded tersely. He pointed up the hillside.

'Let's climb some more, and see if it goes away.'

'You got another gas mask?' asked Sheila with a smile and the Magician grinned back. It was much worse that the smell of the skunk-chicken-thing that had sprayed Eric the day they'd found Zandora's Box. But Presto made no move to try and magic up anything and if Sheila noticed, then she made no comment.

The smell slowly lifted, but Presto's nose still hurt from the afterburn. After another ten minutes, and well above the smell, Hank finally decided they had found a good place to stay the night and they stopped. Everyone was tired, they had been climbing for most of the day; not hard mountaineering, but tough hill-walking and no one was in the mood for much chatting.

Eric hadn't joined them, but they started to get ready for the night. They had all started on the berries and nuts that was dinner by the time the Cavalier appeared. He flopped down between Presto and Sheila.

'Ah, sweet rest,' he murmured.

They started to eat again, but Presto noticed Hank watching the Cavalier, looking like he thought the other boy was going to start another argument. Sure enough, Eric took a few mouthfuls of food and more water, then scowled back at the Ranger.

'Tell me again why we went this way?' he asked.

Presto sighed. He should have known it would never last. They were back to this, again! How many times had they been through it? Six? Seven? A hundred? A thousand?

'It's faster,' said Hank in a tone that brooked no contradictions.

Presto watched Eric, and so did everyone else, expecting him to snap back. Instead the Cavalier just gave a short sigh.

'So you keep saying,' he said, being only mildly sarcastic. 'But it doesn't feel like that to me.'

'So YOU keep saying,' said Hank. He didn't make any more of a reply, but the Cavalier didn't look happy with the answer.

The Ranger just looked at Eric, waiting. Presto gave Hank a supportive smile, not that he needed one at the moment. He'd seemed to grow in confidence after his stay in the Grotto of Darkness. For a few days Hank had been trapped by the Darkling, and Eric had led the group. But now Hank was back in charge, and he was not going to let Eric undermine his authority, not over something as trivial as this.

'What else do you want me to say?' asked Eric. 'I think we came the wrong way!'

'And don't we all know about it!' chimed in the Barbarian

'Keep out of this, Bobby,' said Eric, not looking away from the Ranger. 'You didn't even bother to ask what we thought, Hank!'

'It's not open for discussion,' said Hank firmly.

'Well, it should be!'

'Why?' demanded the Ranger.

'Because…because it should. We're all part of the team!'

Presto was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Eric had never been much of a team player. In fact, there was a time when the Cavalier had been more than willing to go off on his own, not to mention that time with the Dragon, the Wish and the Warlock. They were skirting very dangerous ground.

'Yes,' said Hank carefully, probably thinking the same as Presto. 'And the team agreed to go over. Not round.'

That was certainly true. It was a good twenty or thirty miles extra going round, and everyone had agreed with Hank's suggestion that they take the mountain pass instead. Well, everyone except Eric. While it was in the Cavalier's nature to be uncooperative, even Presto thought he'd gone too far this time. He just wouldn't give it a rest.

Eric pursed his lips, but couldn't find a good answer, and was obviously disturbed by that fact.

'I'm too tired to think straight,' said the Cavalier eventually. 'How about we argue tomorrow? If that's OK by you!'

Eric took one more mouthful of berries then leaned back against a tree with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, not bothering to wait for an answer. Hank scowled at him, obviously not liking to go to sleep with this unresolved, but the show was over.

Disconcerted by the tension, they all finished off the remains of the food in silence then settled down to rest, with Diana taking the first watch.

Presto curled up on the ground between Eric and Bobby, and he watched the Acrobat as she gazed up at the sky. It was another beautiful evening, the moons were low and the stars shone out clearly. Beside him, Eric was breathing heavily, already sound asleep. The Magician smiled. The Cavalier had had a difficult day.

Sleepily, Presto settled back and yawned, his eyes starting to close. Maybe he should have tried to get some blankets out of the Hat, but he didn't feel like using his weapon tonight. Besides, it was warm enough, he was tired, and wasn't his turn on watch. He was really looking forward to a good rest.

Tomorrow night they should be near another city, hopefully one with a Wizard in it: Krin. What was it Dungeonmaster had said? _"I have heard of a great magician, by the name of Krin, who might be able to send you home." _

Their Guide had given them no more information than that, and they hadn't seen Dungeonmaster since leaving the Grotto of Darkness. Almost asleep, Presto still shivered at the name. He hated Darkness.

His hand tightened around the Hat. He was gonna have to face up to it sometime, but not tonight. Tonight, he was going to sleep…

_He couldn't be sure if he dreamed it. _

_There was something._

_He could sense something wasn't right. _(Wake up, Presto!)

_It was a feeling he'd had before._

_Like magical indigestion and it wouldn't let up._

_Something wasn't right. _(Wake up!)

Presto woke with a start, his heart thumping in his chest, and jumped to his feet, noticing the dim glow of dawn to the east. He'd slept for a long time and the others were still resting except Sheila, who was on watch. He was groggy and disorientated, and it was very quiet. But there was still that strange feeling of danger close by. It was still too dark to see more than a couple of feet ahead.

He waited, but nothing happened. Perhaps, he was imagining it. Perhaps he should just settle down and go back to sleep. (Presto, I don't think that's…)

Then there was a shrill scream.

'Hank!' Sheila shouted. 'HANK!'

Everything seemed to happen at once. Spears started embedding themselves in the ground close by, thrown by unseen assailants. The Ranger was up in a second, firing arrows all around, making Presto's eyes hurt with the sudden change in brightness. Diana was up too, batting the spears away from her friends with the Javelin.

Beside him, there was a distinctive, pained cry that the Magician recognised as coming from the Cavalier. He caught a quick image of Sheila flicking her hood up, and of Bobby swinging at the ground.

'Presto! Move!' shouted Hank. 'Get outta there! GO!'

There was a hissing noise behind him and he ducked just as another spear whistled past his arm.

'Everyone, this way!' shouted Hank, firing arrows all around. 'Keep together!'

Presto moved quickly, grabbing the startled unicorn as he went. He could see Diana and the Barbarian just ahead, and as soon as he was close enough, the Barbarian grabbed Uni and hugged her.

Hank had run on moving to a better-defended position, before turning to wait for his friends. They gathered round the Ranger, Hank holding up his Bow, ready to let it fly at the first sign of trouble. But there was an unnatural silence behind them. They stayed very still for a few minutes. There was no sign of anyone else, but Presto still felt uneasy.

'I think I scared them off,' said the Ranger at last. 'But keep your eyes open.'

'What happened? Who were those guys?' whispered Bobby.

'I didn't really see. I'm not sure,' replied Hank. But Presto thought that the Ranger at least had some idea and he looked pretty unhappy about it, whoever they were.

'I-I'm sorry Hank,' said Sheila shakily, as she pulled back her Cloak, 'they just came outta nowhere!'

The Ranger put his arm round her shoulders, and gave them a quick squeeze.

'It's OK, Sheila. We didn't even see them when they attacked, you have no chance to spot them in the low light. Don't worry about it.'

She gave his a small smile.

'Thanks, Hank.' She looked around, confused. 'But where's Eric?'

Hank swore, not a very bad word, but bad enough for Sheila to blush and Bobby to snigger.

'This is getting ridiculous!' growled Hank. 'Why can't that Cavalier stay out of trouble!'

Hank was glaring in the direction of their old camp when Presto felt his heart lurch. Something else was wrong, very wrong. He glanced round too, and could just make out the faintest glint of metal ahead. The attackers were still there!

'LOOK OUT!' he shouted, pulling Hank back. There was another whoosh of spears. One nicked Presto's sleeve, another imbedded itself in the ground nearby. Hank staggered then turned, but the Magician slipped and was barely able to stay upright.

Sheila pulled up her Cloak again, disappearing in an instant and Diana raised her glowing Javelin to deflect the spears as she backed away. Beside him, Bobby swung his Club at the ground then followed after the Acrobat.

There were shouts all around them and the Magician turned to go after Bobby. But something growled behind him and, before he could move, the dawn turned to dark again.

* * *

'This way!' shouted Hank. 'Quick!'

The spears were flying at them, and he pulled an arrow. Their attackers were recognisable this time. His first guess had been correct: they were indeed Troglodytes. Nasty, dangerous, lizard-like things, not the sort of creatures that they should have met here, the other group had said they met the Trogs miles away!

Hank cursed their bad luck. They had no choice but to make a run for it, there were too many to fight. Sheila had already gone. Bobby had knocked a few to the ground and Diana was making short work of the two that were attacking her. He looked for Presto, but there was no sign of the Magician. More spears flew out from the shadows, making it impossible to go back and search. Hank swore for the second time that night, thinking belatedly that it was a good job the others were out of earshot.

They ran on, until the sounds of pursuit had stopped. But he didn't drop his guard; that was how they'd gotten to Presto. Only when the dawn had become full morning did he let them risk a short rest.

They slumped exhausted to the ground. They had covered a good number of miles on a very short time. Even the fit and tireless Diana was looking the worse for wear. Sheila was sitting on the ground beside the other girl and, for the first time Hank noticed the cut down her arm. He was by her side in an instant.

'It's just a scrape. I'm fine, Hank.' She gave him a warm smile, the kind that made his heart stop for a few seconds. She was beautiful and he loved her. He smiled back, forgetting everything else.

'What were those things?' asked Bobby, bringing Hank back to reality with a nasty bump.

'They're Troglodytes,' he replied, forcing himself to look away from Sheila's mesmerising eyes. 'I don't understand why they're here, they shouldn't be any where near us!'

He'd heard about those creatures from the other group of adventures that they'd met, a couple of weeks ago. And while Alison the Amazon hadn't been forthcoming with details, he knew enough to realise they were in deep, deep trouble.

'But they must have a Lair close by,' he said. 'We'll have to find it.'

'That would be a wise plan, Ranger,' said a soft, calm voice beside him.

'Dungeonmaster!' chorused his friends, but Hank didn't feel like greeting their Guide. The others were all looking much happier now the old man was here, but it didn't make him feel any better this time. The expression on Dungeonmaster's face filled the Ranger with worry.

'Where are Presto and Eric?' asked Sheila.

'They are prisoners of the Troglodytes,' replied Dungeonmaster.

'But what are Troglodytes?' asked Diana.

Their Guide turned to look expectantly at Hank. The Ranger gulped; he could remember clearly what the Amazon had told him.

'Alison said…' Hank hesitated, unwilling to voice his true worries in front of the girls and Bobby. 'She said they were dangerous.' Actually, she'd said: "_they're the worst sort of evil, vicious carnivores that it's been my misfortune to meet in this crappy place_." But repeating THAT didn't seem like a good idea just now.

'Dungeonmaster, what were they doing here?' asked the Ranger. 'They should have been miles away!'

The old man looked sadly down at the ground.

'This was only a small scouting group, and they would not have attacked if they had not seen the Cavalier.'

Hank snorted. Bloody Eric! AGAIN! He was getting so goddamn sick of Eric causing trouble! Dungeonmaster smiled thinly at Hank, slowly shaking his head.

'No, Ranger. They covet what he carried. They love only steel, and prize it above all other things.'

'Steel?' said Bobby incredulously.

'Of course!' interrupted Diana, 'Eric's armour and Shield!'

Dungeonmaster nodded.

'In their eyes, the Cavalier carried an immeasurable fortune.'

'Like a walking bank vault?' asked Bobby. Dungeonmaster nodded once again, in a calm and reassuring way. But anger flashed through Hank.

'Why didn't you warn us?' he demanded. 'Why did you let us come this way?'

Dungeonmaster looked at him sternly.

'You are responsible for your own path, Ranger. No one can choose it for you.'

Hank sighed, knowing the old man was right. It was no use blaming Dungeonmaster for this. It had been his choice, his call. And in spite of Eric's objections about the climb, he'd led them this way.

'I'm sorry, Dungeonmaster,' he said. 'But what are we gonna do?'

'Whatever you decide, you must be quick,' said the old man. 'You're friends are in mortal danger as long as they are held captive.'

'M-mortal danger?' asked Sheila, her voice shaking.

Dungeonmaster nodded again.

'You will find no allies in this fight against these creatures. Help those who are unable to help themselves. Find the key to their trust!'

'What are we gonna do?' asked Diana, turning to look at Hank. 'How are we gonna find them?'

'You will only have one chance,' said Dungeonmaster. 'They will take an offering to their King.'

'Presto and Eric are going to be "offerings"?' said the Thief, looking dismayed.

'If it was at any other time of year, your friends would have been eaten already!' said Dungeonmaster. Hank looked abruptly at the old man, but he was deadly serious. 'It may give you an opportunity.'

The others looked round at each other, talking in low voices. The Ranger was almost too busy thinking to hear what Dungeonmaster said next.

'Yet… I fear you will only have time to help one.'

Hank whirled round.

'Dungeonmaster!' he called desperately.

But their Guide had gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ever-Decreasing Circles

The others hadn't heard Dungeonmaster's parting words, and were busy talking about what they should do. Hank couldn't concentrate on anything else: _You will only have time to help one._

He knew exactly what the old man had meant and he felt sick. This was something he'd always dreaded, having to choose between two of his friends. He couldn't decide who lived and who died. It wasn't fair; he had no right to make such decisions… _Presto? Or Eric?_

'Hank, you all right?' asked Sheila suddenly. 'You've gone pale.'

He looked up into her lovely green eyes, feeling like there was a knife in his heart. But the Ranger managed to nod very slightly. _What am I gonna do?_

'We should find a safer place to rest properly, maybe by those cliffs,' said Diana, pointing off to the left. 'What do you think, Hank?' …_ You will only have time to help one_… 'Hank!'

He nodded again, looking intently at the faces of his three remaining friends. It was obvious they hadn't heard what Dungeonmaster had said. Perhaps he should say…

_No! _he thought. _I can't tell them, it's not fair to burden them!_

'Diana, take the lead,' he said thickly. 'Go!'

The Acrobat did as she was told, and led them on. Hank walked at the back, trying to keep a close watch out for more Trogs, and think rationally at the same time. But he couldn't get beyond Dungeonmaster's words; there was a calm finality in the old man's voice that made Hank feel terrible. _What am I gonna do?_

In front of him, Sheila and Bobby suddenly stopped beside Diana. Hank was too distracted to notice until he'd almost walked straight into them. They were close to a little cave in a low cliff, well hidden by the trees. The Acrobat had found a good place to rest. They climbed up to it and settled down.

Hank knew the others were talking, but he didn't concentrate on what they were saying. He was too busy thinking about his missing friends, Presto and Eric. He'd be too late to help one of them.

'Hank? Are you listening?'

'Huh?' he said, turning round.

'Are you listening?' repeated Diana. 'We'll have to go soon. Don't you think?'

The Ranger hesitated. The confidence he'd felt earlier had vanished in the face of such a terrible choice. _Presto… or Eric…_

'We can't hide all day, Hank!' said the Acrobat. 'And what use will it be if we're too late to find them.' That didn't make him feel any better. They were going to be too late for one, whatever they did.

'We're as worried as you are, Hank,' put in Sheila. 'But we've gotta do something.'

Hank was frozen with indecision. His mind was filled with what-ifs: What if they lost the trail, what if they couldn't find them, what if they were too late, what if one was already dead…_What kind of leader am I?_

'Hank!' said Sheila. 'What are we gonna do?'

He looked at her, but instead of thinking about Presto and Eric, he found himself overwhelmingly relieved that she was safe. Now he'd told her how he felt, it was so much more real, and more frightening. He loved her, she'd not been out of his sight for more than a few minutes since he'd told her so, and he couldn't bear the thought that anything might happen to her. Then another, much more unpleasant realisation struck him. They had to find the others, and there was only one of them who could do it: Sheila.

If anything, that made him feel even worse. Those Trogs were very dangerous, he couldn't let anything happen to her. He loved her. But they looked into each other's eyes and Hank realised she had already made up her mind.

He wanted to argue, he wanted to get her away from this terrible place, but he was the leader. He couldn't play favourites, and he couldn't let the others down either. For the sake of all his friends, he had to pull himself together.

'Just a second, guys,' he said. 'I need to think.'

The Ranger closed his eyes, trying to keep control of his emotions. They had to stay calm and think about this logically. He couldn't let panic influence what he would do. And, above all, he had to keep the others safe. And that meant letting the Thief do what only she could do. He felt a hand on his arm: Sheila's. He opened his eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

'I'm OK,' he said. 'And I know what to do. We'll take a short rest, then well go back to the old camp and track the Trogs from there, until we find the entrance to the tunnels.' He slipped his arm round Sheila's shoulders. 'Then you'll go and find the Lair.'

The Thief looked pale, but she nodded and cuddled into him.

'Do you think they'll be alright?' she asked him. _You will only have time to help one._

'I don't know,' admitted Hank. 'But we can't make any mistakes.'

The others were quiet, Bobby hugging the unicorn, the Acrobat sitting by the edge of the cave looking out across the hillside. Hank sat there, holding the girl he loved tight against him. What would he do if anything happened to her?

'Help those who are unable to help themselves' murmured Diana thoughtfully. 'What did you make of the riddles this time, Hank?'

Hank didn't reply as he suddenly felt hope surge through him. _Riddles_! Perhaps it had a different meaning. Perhaps Dungeonmaster didn't mean they could only help one, perhaps…Then he sighed, the feelings of regret and worry returning tenfold. He'd had enough experience of Dungeonmaster to know the difference between a riddle and a statement. The Acrobat was waiting for an answer, but the Ranger could only shrug. This was terrible.

They rested in silence and Hank slowly felt worse and worse. Then Uni nuzzled into his hand, her big, pink eyes filled with tears, and he realised she had heard Dungeonmaster as well. She understood his dilemma. He petted her mane, his heart heavier than ever. But there was nothing he could do at the moment. He just had to trust Dungeonmaster, and hope that Presto and Eric were still OK.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was the throbbing in his head. A second later he smelt it; the same smell as yesterday, a cross between rotten meat, vinegar, and something much worse. His stomach tightened and the Magician repeated the words "don't be sick" over and over again in his head. 

_I am not going to be sick._ (Well, not yet…)

He slowly got used to the stench, and when he'd convinced himself that throwing up wasn't going to happen, Presto opened his eyes.

There was a flaming torch close by that gave enough light to see where he was. He gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. True, he was in a cave, but at least there wasn't any lava this time. _That's a very good start!_ (No lava!)

In fact, he was in a wooden cage, with wide, strong bars. The Magician reached out and gave them an exploratory tug. You would need a Barbarian sized Club to get through those. Further away was a heavy-looking door, over 8 feet high, with wooden beams reinforcing the edges. Presto sighed. He was definitely gonna need Bobby to get out of here.

He sat for a few seconds then, almost as an after-thought, checked to see if he still had the Hat. He didn't.

'Dumb Hat!' he murmured. 'Never sticks around when I need it!'

There was a low groan from close by. Presto would have known that groan anywhere; it was Eric! The Cavalier was here as well!

He scrambled over to the back of his cell and peered through the bars. The Cavalier was lying at the back of the next cell. He'd been stripped down to his shorts, every last bit of his armour was gone, as well as the Shield. And, judging by the scrapes and bruises, whoever had taken it hadn't been very careful.

Further beyond, behind Eric's cage, the remains of his cape and surplus lay in the corner of the cave. Just peeping out underneath it was the Hat. But there was no sign of the armour anywhere.

The Cavalier groaned again, but didn't seem fully conscious.

'Eric?' whispered Presto. 'Eric, you OK?

There was no reply, but before Presto could ask again, there were low grunting noises from beyond the big door. He turned, watching the door fearfully as it swung open.

A tall, reptilian man came in, looking to Presto like a giant, upright iguana. It had three long toes on each foot, each ending with a vicious claw, and had long, muscular tail. Round its waist there was a narrow leather belt, with small bits of grey metal hanging of it. Two other Iguana-men followed the first in, each of these carrying a long spear. Presto stayed still, his heart hammering.

They talked with a low, guttural accent that he initially had trouble making out. His head was still hurting from earlier which didn't help, but he got the main points.

It was obvious that they'd been recognised; the leader referred to them as "the pupils of Dungeonmaster". And having Dungeonmaster's pupils here was a tremendous coup for this Clan, so one would be sent as the "Pledge" to the King, who would doubtless be very impressed. _Meeting the King, that doesn't sound so bad._ (Are you sure about that, Presto?)

'And the other?' asked one of the other Iguana-men with a nasty smile. The three looked round at each other.

'Steel,' they hissed together, the smiles growing more evil. 'He wore it, he makes it! We have found The One Who Makes Steel!'

'Now he will make it for us alone,' said the leader, brandishing a narrow flask. 'And he must make it fast. We must have it! Now!'

Presto stared in horror at them, realisation dawning on him; they didn't mean "make" as in "make", they meant "make" as in "grow". They weren't dumb enough to really think that Eric could grow steel? Were they? Why on earth would they think that? Humans didn't make steel! What was going on?

But as he watched, one of the guards pulled a big, copper key out of its belt and unlocked Eric's cell. All three went in.

'Hey, leave him alone!' shouted Presto. Well, it was meant to be a shout, but it came out as more of a croak and the Iguana-men ignored him.

They pulled the semi-conscious Cavalier off the floor, pinning his arms behind him. The leader forced Eric's head back and popped the top off the flask.

Even from further away, Presto wanted to throw up again. The smell was more than disgusting. No words could describe it. The Cavalier started to struggle and Presto could see the panic in his eyes.

One of the guards held Eric's head by the hair as the leader forced his clawed fingers into the Cavalier's mouth and poured the whole vial of liquid into the boy's mouth. Eric struggled again, coughing and spluttering, but he didn't stand a chance against the three six-foot lizard men. The leader pulled out his claw and clamped his hand over Eric's mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow. Then they let him slide to the floor, clutching his stomach.

The Iguanas looked pleased and left without a backwards glance, only pausing to lock the cage again.

'Eric!' said Presto urgently, pulling himself close to the bars. 'Eric, say something!'

For a long while Eric didn't move. Presto could see him shivering, his breath coming in short bursts. When the Cavalier finally rolled over onto his back, it was very, very slowly. A thin line of green ooze tricked out of his mouth. His eyes were open, but the Cavalier just stared up blankly at the roof.

'Eric?' asked Presto again. The Cavalier grunted. That was a start. 'C'mon, Eric, say something.'

'P-P-Pre-sto?'

'Yeah, it's me!'

'Presto?' Eric blinked sluggishly. 'Presto!'

'Yeah Eric, it's Presto!' said the Magician, trying not to sound overly worried. 'Say something else!'

There was a pause.

'Eric!'

'Haven't gone…anywhere,' said the Cavalier, making Presto smile in spite of everything. 'Gimme a… sec, OK?'

Presto watched Eric wipe the back of his hand across his mouth and grimace. Wearily, the Cavalier then pushed himself upright and leaned back against the back wall. He was paler than usual, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his face. He groaned.

'Are you OK?' asked Presto. Eric didn't reply, but scowled at the Magician. 'Um, that's a no, right?'

Eric winced, and clutched his stomach again.

'Enough with the dumb questions,' he murmured.

'What were those things?' asked Presto loudly, hoping to keep Eric talking. 'Do you think they might be friends of the Orcs?'

'They're Troglodytes,' replied Eric. 'Trogs.'

Presto looked at his friend in surprise.

'How do you know that?'

'I recognise them,' he replied. 'Gail, the Harlequin, she told me. But I thought she was joking about the smell.'

'They're obsessed with steel,' Presto told him. 'They took your armour as well as the Shield.'

'I have managed to figure that out for myself, Presto!' the Cavalier snapped. Then he looked down at himself and gave a morose sigh. 'But it's lucky I don't have steel underwear.'

Presto smiled, suddenly feeling much better. If Eric could joke then he must be a little bit OK after all! The Cavalier drew a deep breath, the faintest hint of a sneer on his top lip.

'Bet this would never have happened if we'd gone round,' he muttered bitterly. 'I just hope I get the chance to tell him that.'

Presto wasn't happy with the way Eric was scowling, and he didn't reply. Encouraging the Cavalier to criticize Hank wasn't going to help at the moment, but he had to keep him occupied.

'The stuff they gave you smelt horrid, didn't it?' he said, blurting out the first thing on his mind.

'Yeah, well, it didn't taste that good either,' was the deadpan reply.

'Last time I smelt something that bad, you were making us breakfast,' said Presto, as brightly as he could.

The corner of Eric's mouth twitched, then he replied:

'Don't think I don't appreciate what your trying to do, Presto. Cos I don't. But please, talk about something else.'

It was a tall order and Presto racked his brains for something to say that wasn't connected with the Trogs. There was one thing, the only thing he could think of at the moment that was absolutely guaranteed to take the Cavalier's mind off ANYTHING. He didn't really want to mention it, but what else could he do?

'At least there isn't any… red ink… around here.'

Presto couldn't suppress a grin at the memory as he waited for the inevitable howls of anger that Eric emitted every time that school-time prank was even hinted at. But instead, the Cavalier smiled too.

'Yeah,' he said casually, 'Gail almost died laughing about that one.'

That was just too odd, and for a few seconds Presto could think of anything to say in reply. What was going on? Eric had sworn everyone to double secrecy: absolutely everyone, without exception. He wouldn't even let them talk about it in his presence; it was just too embarrassing. And now Eric himself had gone and told some stranger!

'Gail?' said Presto, not bothering to hide his surprise. 'You told her? Why?'

Eric blushed and muttered something under his breath.

'You see,' he began carefully, 'Well, Gail and I, we…um…sorta…um… you know, just while they were around…'

'In your dreams, Eric!' said Presto with a laugh. The Cavalier and girls never got on well. He tried to appear confident and charming, but Eric usually tried too hard, and ended up saying or doing something dumb that ended in howls of derisive laughter. And Eric hated being laughed at above anything else, as the incident with the ink had proved (how were they supposed to know it was permanent, anyway?). Besides, there was no way Gail, of all people, could have liked him! She might be kinda weird, but she had at least SOME sense!

Presto grinned at the memory of the Harlequin. As wilful as Bobby and as temperamental as Eric; she was not an easy person to get along with. He'd liked her, but only in small doses. The Cavalier was blushing more deeply, and had a small smile on his face.

'No way!' said Presto still laughing. 'NO WAY!'

Eric looked up at him, and Presto choked on his laugh. Suddenly it all seemed to make some sort of sense. How much time had they spent together? The night watches? The long walks? And Eric had definitely been acting oddly since they'd met the others. The Cavalier's look had turned to a scowl.

'You tell anyone, and I'll have to kill you,' he said matter-of-factly.

Presto nodded. Considering the relentless teasing Bobby had gotten about Terri, Eric would expect nothing but the same back. He would never hear the end of it. But then, it was so unlike Eric not to boast, especially about something like this. It would boost his ego enormously to brag. Now, if Hank had a secret girlfriend, then Presto would have understood; Hank was so mature and sensible about this sort of thing. But Eric? The Magician frowned. Perhaps the two of them were serious.

'You're not, you know, in love with her?'

There was a fractional pause, then Eric snorted.

'Don't be so dumb, Presto! No one falls in love that quickly!' His eyes narrowed. 'Except you and Varla, of course!' he added sarcastically.

Presto blushed at her name. The Cavalier had been at his most scathing after they'd rescued the Illusionist. Why, oh why, had he gathered the young girl in his arms like that? Why couldn't he have just taken her hand and helped her down the mountain? The ripping Eric had given his ego after that, oh boy! But as much as Presto hated getting teased about her, he didn't let it pass.

'What about Diana and Kosar?'

Eric thought about that for a second, then said:

'Oh, OK, those two as well. But I'm not, get it?'

Presto just nodded. He watched Eric continue to smile, in a self-conscious and smug kind of way, making the Magician frown again. There was something more, that Eric wasn't telling. Presto's jaw suddenly dropped and he turned a brilliant shade of scarlet.

'You didn't…do… anything…' What WAS he asking? He couldn't even say the word!

Eric's smile had turned into a nasty smirk, and the Magician couldn't tell if it was because he and Gail had done anything like that or because he, Presto, was making such a complete and utter dork of himself.

'Remember, breathe a word and you're dead,' said Eric. 'I mean it!'

The Magician nodded.

'Gee, if it means that much to you, OK.'

Eric shuddered again, the smirk vanishing. But at least the Cavalier had forgotten about the liquid, if only for a few minutes. And since they were on the subject of girls…

'I always though you had a bit of a thing for Diana,' said the Magician, hoping to keep Eric's mind off the Trogs for a little longer. The Cavalier just shrugged.

'Yeah, well, who wouldn't find a girl in fur bikini attractive,' he replied. 'It's not like we had a chance.' _Look blank! _(Look blank!) _Act casual! _(Act casual!) 'She has a whole queue of gorgeous quarterbacks waiting for her back at home, and then she met Kosar! Face it, nether of us ever had a hope.'

The Magician blushed furiously. _The blank look hasn't worked!! _(How did he figure it out, anyway?)

'M-me? I-I n-never…'

Eric cut in.

'You almost fainted when she kissed you on the cheek. That time with the Cloud Bears? Remember?'

_Oh. Yes. _(That…)

Presto had to nod. At the time, he wasn't able to think about anything else for days. It was before he'd met Varla and…

Beside him, Eric gave a strangled groan. Presto saw his shoulders shaking.

'Eric, you gonna be OK?'

The Cavalier didn't reply. He'd gone from pale green to just pale, and had closed his eyes. Presto could only watch as Eric winced and turned away. A few seconds later, the Cavalier was very, very sick.

'"Make steel"?' he murmured, turning back slowly. 'Is this a bad joke?'

Presto could only shrug, unable to think of a reply and the silence stretched out into minutes.

Then there was a noise from the door, and both boys looked up. It had to be Hank and the others, Presto was sure. They wouldn't let them down.

The door opened. But instead of any of their friends, ten or more Trogs filed in, each with a spear. They looked between the two boys, and there was lots of whispering. The head-Trog from earlier stepped forward. He was holding another bottle and every single one of the Trogs was looking at the Cavalier.

'Oh…' whispered Eric.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Pros and Cons

Hank hated waiting.

He, Diana, Bobby and Uni were huddled up behind some stones, upwind of the small entrance tunnel they had found. They would have waited closer, but for the smell. If it had been bad yesterday evening, it was ten times worse today, and none of them could stomach getting any nearer. Uni had suffered particularly badly, and she kept very close to the Barbarian.

As it turned out, it was easy to track the Trogs. Hank had lead them back and they travelled as fast as they could, trailing their quarry deep into the mountain range, back the way they had climbed the previous day. Diana had found the tunnel entrance, partially concealed by rocks and they had decided to let Sheila go in on her own.

Hank had had second thoughts as soon as he'd seen the entrance and hadn't wanted to let her, but he quickly realised it was the only way; the tunnels were narrow and dimly lit with glowing torches. All it needed was a wandering Trog to spot one of them and they would have lost the vital element of surprise. So, reluctantly, he let Sheila pull up the Cloak and go down into the tunnels alone.

He had almost told her what he'd heard about the Trogs, but at the last minute he didn't. It wouldn't have changed her mind about going, and would probably just have made her more nervous. But he felt terrible for sending Sheila, unknowing, into such danger.

It was well into the afternoon by now. The Thief had assured them she would be as quick as she could, but she had already been gone for at least three hours. Hank tried to suppress a little shudder. He was more worried about her than his two missing friends; what if something happened to her this time? He never realised he would feel like this. He'd sent her into danger a number of times before, he knew she could take care of herself, but today he just couldn't stop worrying.

Bobby seemed calm, confident that his sister could cope, but Diana looked more nervous and unhappy than he'd seen her in a long time. She was taking this a lot harder than he'd guessed she would. Perhaps she'd been told what the Trogs were like, and knew that Presto and Eric were in terrible danger.

Hank didn't like admitting it, and he would never have admitted it openly to anyone (except perhaps Sheila), but he was more worried about the Magician than about the Cavalier. He couldn't play favourites, but the truth was that he had always liked Presto better than Eric. It wasn't exactly hard. Even at school, the Magician was a much nicer guy.

Presto had always looked up to him, and he had a tremendous amount of respect for the Magician in return. Not only had he admitted his error to the others in Mindril, he was obviously struggling with a weapon that was as temperamental as it was powerful. How many other people would keep going with the Hat? So what if he needed encouragement every so often? He'd always tried his best, even if that didn't always work well. And Presto had always been a good friend.

Then there was the Cavalier.

At the moment, after their little spat last night, Hank struggled to think of any good points about him at all. At the beginning of their "stay" in the Realm, Hank had disliked Eric, though he would never have let it show. He was sarcastic, and annoying, and cowardly, and selfish, and always managed to get them into trouble. There was nothing anyone could do that was good enough for that boy. He picked on Bobby, he teased Sheila, he pushed Hank's authority at every opportunity, he used Presto to boost his own fragile self-esteem and sniped at Diana in a vain attempt to get her to notice him.

There was one thing in particular that Hank really disliked about Eric; his tendency to run away at the slightest hint of trouble. OK, all of them had been scared, but the Cavalier had taken cowardice to a new level. And after it was all over, Eric would show up with no apology for his behaviour and that same smug look that said "I did nothing, but I'm still fabulous!". That look was just the worst.

But over the years, (was it really years?) Eric had slowly grown up, and Hank's dislike had matured into a reluctant tolerance, even though the unpleasant traits still bubbled just below the surface, ready to reappear at the slightest provocation. The few times he'd actually helped were usually motivated by self-interest; marrying the Queen of Zinn, for example. And then there was that time with the Warlock, when everyone thought that the Cavalier had gone home on his own and left them all behind.

Perhaps I should have left Eric that day. I could be with Sheila right now, safely back at home…

The Ranger took a deep breath, stopping the thought where it was. This wasn't going to help. He knew he'd made the right choice, the choice he'd have made for any of his friends. He was just taking his frustration out on the Cavalier because he was a convenient scapegoat. Eric wasn't the problem. Hank was just worried about Sheila.

She'd been gone far too long.

His heart gave a sickening lurch. He'd managed to loose two of his friends already today, what if she'd been captured too…

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the terrible images that though had created, and tried to think about something else. So, instead of thinking about his missing companions or the Thief, Hank tried to concentrate on what Dungeonmaster had said. _You will find no allies…you must find the key to their trust._ What were they going to do?

It made no sense at the moment, but the Ranger knew that the riddles seldom made sense until they were needed. It was always the way with Dungeonmaster. The riddles had always been right before, so there was nothing much to do except wait and hope.

Hank let out a loud sigh that made both Bobby and Uni jump. _Wait and hope?_ What sort of options were those? How had he managed to get them into such a dangerous situation? For God's sake, what kind of leader was he?

He had just closed his eyes where there was a soft scuffing noise from the entrance hole.

Diana was up in an instant, her Javelin at the ready. Bobby had raised the Club and Hank himself had an arrow ready before he'd even realised what was happening.

Sheila... she was pushing herself out of the entrance hole. 

Her face was clear, she looked tired and dirty, but it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He felt the world tilt slightly as he rushed forward to embrace her.

She smiled up at him, trying to hug Bobby at the same time. Even held tightly in his arms, he could feel her shaking, and when he looked into her eyes he could see she was close to tears.

'I know I've been much longer than I thought,' said Sheila. 'I'm sorry.'

The worrying about the Thief was over, but from the tone in her voice he knew something really bad had happened. _There will only be time to help one._ Perhaps they were too late, he had delayed too long, he wasn't fast enough, he hadn't… Hank had to turn way, trying to stop the worry. Beside him, Diana asked the question he was unable to say.

'What's happened?'

* * *

The Thief had to walk for almost an hour before finding the Lair. Hank had only been able to guess at the distance, but he was way out. It was a very long way to walk and the tunnel wound round and down all the time. Unsure of the right way to go, she just followed the noxious smell to the centre of the mountain. 

It was dim, and monotonous, and thankfully she met no Trogs as she went. And even though she tried, she couldn't stop thinking, but not about her two missing friends.

_Hank_. There was something worrying him, she knew.

It had taken him a few hours to recover from being held by the Darkling, but when he'd led them out of Mindril, it was with a confident air that she'd only seen a few times before. He was their leader, and he obviously felt the need to prove it after having to be rescued. And that meant making the decisions on his own. She had almost agreed with Eric last night; Hank should have heard what he had to say, he'd led them well against the Darkling. But she was far too loyal to voice her opinion in front of everyone. She had been going to mention it to the Ranger, then this had happened.

But it was more than that; his behaviour had changed after Dungeonmaster's appearance. She could tell there was something seriously wrong, and she desperately wanted to help him. But there were times when he would shut her out, even though he loved her, thinking it was for her own good.

She suspected he'd heard of Trogs before. The look on his face when Dungeonmaster had asked him what he knew was a dead give-away. But, even when the opportunity presented itself just before she'd left, he didn't open up and tell her what was wrong.

It was so frustrating that Hank wouldn't trust her. He would try and protect her, but that was a luxury they couldn't afford in this place. They had to work together. And, even though she loved him as much as he loved her, the fact that he wouldn't let her help just made her angry.

Gradually, more and more tunnels joined the main one, and it grew bigger and better lit. Then, just as the smell got almost overpowering, she began to hear noises. She slowed, then stopped to peep round the next corner. Ahead was the Troglodyte Lair.

And it was huge. At least the size of a football field and lined with small caves in the walls; it was difficult to tell the size accurately, as hundreds and hundreds of Trogs were milling about the centre, sending wafts of foul air up the tunnel. The whole place was buzzing with excitement, Sheila could sense it from her hiding place.  
The Thief waited in the tunnel entrance for a short while. Even secure under her Cloak, she couldn't help feeling vulnerable. There was a lot was going on, the Trogs were everywhere.

As she watched them, she had a bad feeling inside. These guys weren't gonna be friendly. They looked vicious, and had a nasty smugness about them that made her very uncomfortable. Poor Presto and Eric. She just hoped they were OK.

She saw her chance to move when they Trogs all started shuffling closer to the far end of the cave. It still wasn't easy; movement was made all the more difficult because of their long, thick tails that swished out from side to side, she was almost hit a few times and quickly learned to keep out of their way. But it made her progress all the slower.

She crept around, keeping close to the wall, listening to what was going on and hoping to get some hint about the fate of her friends. The Trogs spoke with a heavy accent, but they were easy enough to understand.

Steel: that was the main topic of conversation wherever she went and whomever she listened to. And steel was somehow going to make this Clan rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams.

This was not good news, considering what Dungeonmaster had said. They only went after Eric because of his armour and Shield. Was that the steel that they meant?

There was no chance to think about that question as, suddenly, the whole place seemed overcrowded with Trogs, and the Thief pressed herself against the wall, trying to keep out of their way. Far to the left, she heard a raised Trog-voice shout something incomprehensible. Then the whole Trog Clan raised their voices in reply, and the noise almost made Sheila's ears burst. She huddled down beside the wall, pressing her hands over her ears, waiting for the howls and shouts to stop.

From the floor, she couldn't see what was going on, only that the Trogs were heading off, down a tunnel next to the one she'd used. Sheila felt a huge surge of relief. Hank and the others would be safe; the Trogs weren't going that way. The thought of the Ranger made her smile, those gorgeous blue eyes, the way his hair curled round his ears, the way…

_No! _she told herself. _The Trogs might be gone, but I still have to find Presto and Eric._

Slowly, the Lair emptied, as the Trogs shuffled out. Only when they were gone could she search in safety for her friends. But it was so big and confusing that she almost gave up hope of finding them at all. Where were they, what had happened to them?

Presto was like a brother, she cared about him in the same way that she cared about Bobby. They had been through so much together, and she knew Presto had come a long way from being that naïve and shy boy she'd known at school.

Then there was Eric. It was difficult to describe her feelings for him. There had been a time, quite recently too, when she'd almost hated him because of the way he'd teased her about being scared. But when it came down to it, she had a soft spot for the troubled Cavalier. And after their last run in with Venger, not to mention their fight against the Darkling, she'd realised that Eric had somehow managed to grow up, more than any of the others were aware of.

_This isn't helping! _she told herself. _Stop worrying and get on with it! _She had to find them, and quickly. She was the only one that could help.

Walking cautiously out into the centre, she took a slow look around. Apart from the tunnel she had come down, and the one the Trogs had left through, there were another four tunnels leading off in other directions. But the part that caught her attention was the steep, wide ramp that sloped down at the far end of the Lair. She tiptoed across, on edge in spite of the relative quiet. She almost pulled her Cloak off, but didn't at the last minute. In such a strange and frightening place, she should use all the advantages her weapon gave her.

She walked down the ramp, hearing strange noises from below.

At the bottom, there were four doorways, two on the left, two on the right.

The first room on the left was just a storeroom full of junk. The second room on the left had a huge thick door that had a big lock on it. She gave it a tentative pull, wondering what was behind it, but it didn't budge. It could be where Eric and Presto were, so she pressed her ear close and listened. But she heard nothing, and certainly not the loud, complaining noises that should have been heard from an annoyed Cavalier.

She turned back, and looked at the other two doors. Just as she was about to move, there was a noise that startled her, and a huge Trog lumbered into view from the upstairs, yanking the far door open with a snort. She froze, still nervous in spite of the Cloak.

_Of course,_ she thought as she watched the Trog go through the door. _They wouldn't leave this place unguarded._

It was by far the fattest Trog she'd seen, and it didn't have the happy air of the others; it was probably annoyed about being left behind and not going with the rest of the Clan. But she couldn't help giving a little smile. Since there was only a single guard, it should be easy to get the two boys out without being seen.

She peeked through the open door. The room beyond wasn't very large and she just waited, watching what it did next.

It sat down and started measuring out various liquids into a narrow flask, mumbling to itself all the time. Separately, the liquids smelt terrible, but when they were mixed together they created a stench so awful that Sheila had to wrap the end of her Cloak over her mouth and nose to stop herself from coughing. There was nothing in the universe that could have smelt THAT bad.

It sat for a number of minutes, pouring and mumbling then finally, it put a stopper in the flask and moved to leave, muttering about 'steel' as it stomped past her.

Intrigued and hopeful, she followed it through the last doorway, just in time to slide through the door before it slammed. But it moved faster than she'd thought, and it was through the big door at the other end of the hallway before she could follow it. Trapped for the moment, she waited. Presto and Eric could be behind that door, and this was an opportunity to check. If she got stuck, she would have to try and trick her way out, but she would worry about that it if happened.

The Thief moved round to beside the door, listening for any sign of the Trog Guard coming back. The door was thick and there was only silence for a long time, then there was the muffled sound of stomping feet. Sheila pressed herself against the wall, waiting for her chance.

The door swung outward and the Trog marched through, still muttering and Sheila darted into the other room, just managing to get through the door before it closed.

She gasped, having to hold her Cloak up again. It smelt even worse in here!

There were two thick, wooden cages that took up most of the room, each with a hefty looking lock on the door. One was empty, but Eric was in the other!

He was lying on the floor, naked but for his shorts. Sheila could here his quick, shallow breaths and even from a few feet away, she could see he was covered in small cuts and bruises.

She stood still is shock for a second, staring. In spite of the compassion she felt for Eric (often the one to end up in trouble), there was also the obvious question: Where was Presto?

Sheila finally managed to get her legs moving and, worried that the Guard might still be outside, she tiptoed across to the Cavalier. He was shivering, but his hair was damp with sweat, and he was weakly wiping green slime from his mouth. He definitely looked green too. She had thought it was just the low lighting.

Her heart sank. He looked so weak and helpless there was no way she could get him out of here on her own, that was for certain. Not with that one Guard left. She knelt down beside him, wondering what to do.

'Eric,' she whispered. 'Eric!'

He turned round to the direction of her voice. She recoiled at the dazed look on his face, and the blood-red rims to his eyes.

'Sheila?' he whispered back. 'Sheila! Am I glad to see you!' He frowned. 'It is you, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' she replied, pulling the Cloak back. She tried not to let the worry show on her face, but he sounded very ill. His voice was faint and he slurred every few words.

'What's happened?'

For a few seconds, the Cavalier was silent, as if he was trying to force himself to speak.

'You don't wanna know,' he managed.

'Huh?' she replied, confused. Since when had the Cavalier not wanted to talk about himself? Her worry increased, but before she could get more information, Eric spoke again.

'Have you seen Presto?' he asked. 'They took him a short while ago. The Clan are going to the Main Lair to meet the King.'

Sheila shook her head.

'I just saw some of them leaving, but I was at the back of the cave,' she said. 'I didn't see Presto.'

'Figures,' muttered Eric. 'They must have him near the Leader.'

The Cavalier looked off into the distance, and there was silence for almost a minute before Sheila realised Eric wasn't going to say anything else.

'I don't understand,' she said. 'Eric, you have to tell me exactly what's happened.'

'It's Pledge time for the Clan,' he said bitterly. 'They have to give their best slave to the King in some sort of ceremony.' There was a resentful emphasis on the word "best" that made Sheila wonder if Eric was jealous of the Magician, for once. 'They had decided to keep me and take Presto to meet the King.'

There was another pause, and Sheila's heart sank further. She could tell that he was keeping something back. It was so unlike Eric to keep silent.

'But why? Why keep you?' While the question might hurt his ego, she still had to know. The Cavalier hung his head. If she didn't know better, she would have said there were tears in his eyes. It took him a long time to start the next sentence.

'They think I can "make" steel,' he said. 'You know, grow it or something. They took my armour,' he gestured down at himself, 'and they keep me well fed, there's… this drink… and…' He stopped as Sheila realised what had been happening. That's what the Trog had been making. It made Eric drink THAT!

Her stomach tightened, and it was only because she hadn't eaten anything since last night that she wasn't sick there and then.

'Oh, Eric!' gasped the Thief. 'Are you OK?'

She saw Eric purse his lips, presumably biting back a smart comment. Was he really going to be OK after having being stripped, beaten and forced to drink that awful stuff?

'It's the best food they have,' whispered Eric, looking totally disgusted. 'And I can't believe this is happening.'

It was the nearest thing to an admission of being human that she'd ever heard from the Cavalier. Tears of sympathy formed at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away.

She looked at the solidly built cage. How was she gonna help him? How was she ever gonna get him out of there? It didn't look like he could stand, let alone walk. He was sitting very still, as if any movement would hurt. How could this have happened? But in the back of her mind was the whisper of another question: did Hank know what these awful creatures were capable of?

'Oh, Eric,' she whispered. The Cavalier looked away, obviously embarrassed by her sympathy. But there had to be something she could do or say to help.

'We saw Dungeonmaster,' she said, then wished she hadn't.

'Why doesn't my heart leap with joy at that statement?' said Eric looking back with a scowl. 'So what did the old fraud tell ya this time?'

'We will find no allies, but we have to find the key to their trust.'

'Who's trust? The Trogs?' asked Eric.

Shelia shrugged. Why did the old man have to give them a riddle? He obviously knew all about the Trogs, why couldn't he had told them something that would actually make things easier for once? And Hank hadn't been much help either… but perhaps he knew more than he had let on? Sheila didn't like that thought.

'Well, the Trogs are not gonna trust us, key or no key,' Eric told her. 'They are only interested in steel. Period.'

Sheila didn't say anything as the Cavalier closed his eyes again, and shuddered. Watching him was making her feel terrible. The Trog Guard could be back any minute, and there was nothing she could do. If only she'd got here sooner, while Presto was still in the cell too, she might have been able to help them both at the same time, but as it was…

Eric opened his eyes and looked up at her. There was something in his gaze that told her that he knew what she'd been thinking.

'Trogs might be big and lumbering, but they're not stupid!' he said. 'You've gotta trust me on this one! And they're not patient. Who knows how long they'll wait.' Sheila looked anxiously at him. He didn't mean what she thought he did, did he? 'I'm guessing it'll be marinated Cavalier for dinner if I don't come up with more steel for them soon.'

'Oh, Eric,' said Sheila, tears starting at the back of her eyes again.

'Please, stop saying that,' he said. 'It's not…'

He stopped, and began to shiver more violently. He screwed up his eyes and gave a low moan, then turned suddenly away to be sick. Sheila felt her own stomach contract again. This was a lot worse than she'd thought.

Eric turned back, still shaking, wiping the ooze and blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

'Time's running out,' he said. 'The King's Hall is under the biggest mountain, to the West. You've gotta find Presto.' An ugly look crossed him face. 'And you can tell our fearless leader from me that this would never have happened if we'd gone round!'

Shelia had no intention of doing any such thing, but she nodded anyway, just to please the Cavalier.

'I could try and get you outta here?' said Sheila, knowing that the chances of success were almost zero. That Trog Guard would soon see he was gone, and in his current condition the Cavalier wouldn't get far.

Eric shook his head very slightly.

'The guard… checks… on me every few minutes,' said Eric, and Sheila had the distinct impression that the "checks" weren't something Eric enjoyed. 'And you've gotta get back to the others. They've gotta go find Presto, before he gets to the King's Hall.'

'Before?'

Eric glared at her.

'Sheila, don't be dumb! The whole damn Trog kingdom is gonna to be there. You won't stand a chance!'

'But what about you?' she asked, her voice quiet. They both knew the answer and her question did nothing to improve the Cavalier's temper.

'Well, I'm not going anywhere, am I?' he snapped. 'I don't think I can stand up anymore, and you can hardly carry me! Besides, that stuff is making me feel… real… strange.'

She looked into his eyes for a long moment, suddenly understanding what he hadn't told her. That stuff was gonna kill him, and he could feel it working.

What was she gonna do?

There was a sudden noise at the door, and Sheila yanked the Cloak up. She saw Eric shudder.

'Get gone!' he whispered.

Sheila didn't move. Eric obviously knew her better than she'd thought, as he glared in her direction. The noises grew louder and the door started to open.

'I said get gone! Find Presto!'

'But…'

'You just don't have time,' Eric said. 'Go!'

* * *

The Thief had stopped talking, and was cuddling Bobby. She looked very upset. 

'What happened next?' asked Hank.

'I sneaked out when the Guard opened the door.' She sniffed. 'I'm sorry Hank, but I didn't have a chance to get him outta there.'

In the piercing silence that followed, the Ranger looked towards the tallest mountain to the West, and in the almost the opposite direction from the Lair where Eric was.

This had all gone wrong.

The Lair was a lot further away than he'd anticipated. Backtracking would take too long, and they would loose the opportunity of finding Presto. The mountains were probably riddled with Trog tunnels; even finding the King's Hall would need all their skills. They couldn't afford to waste any more time.

He looked round at the others.

'We've gotta help Eric,' said Sheila. 'We can't leave him.'

'But what about Presto?' insisted Bobby. 'He needs us too!'

Diana didn't say anything at first, but as everyone looked at her she said:

'I don't know, Hank, I…just don't…'

Hank nodded understandingly. But now he was faced with the most difficult decision of his life. This was what Dungeonmaster meant. _You will only have time to help one._

If they stayed to help Eric, then they would never have a chance to get Presto away from the King. But if they went after Presto, the chances were that the Cavalier would be dead before they had a chance to reach him.

There was only one, slim hope; that they could find and free Presto quickly, and back before the Clan returned. It was the only choice. _So why does it feel like I'd just sentenced Eric to death? Why does it feel like I'd already made my choice, even before I heard what'd happened? And why does it feel like I'm only doing this because I like Presto better than Eric?_

Sheila seemed to know what he was thinking, there was a dark, reproachful look on her face.

'What will we do, Hank?'

'Is Eric safe, for now?' he asked her.

'They're killing him,' she said bluntly. The Thief looked up, and Hank was surprised that her voice hadn't wavered. 'And if that… stuff… doesn't do it, the Trogs will themselves, when they don't get more steel.'

'We'll be able to get Presto and back in time,' he said.

'No!' replied Sheila, looking scared. 'It's not gonna work, Hank.'

They looked at each other. He knew the argument was about to escalate, and could tell that Sheila wanted to go and help the Cavalier, on her own if necessary. But he couldn't let them split up any more. It was bad enough as it was.

'I'm the leader and it's my decision,' he said sternly. 'We need you with us to get Presto. We have to leave Eric and just hope.'

Sheila was appalled.

'We can't leave him, Hank! Please! You didn't see what they did to him! We have got to help!'

'And Presto?' he asked. 'We don't have time to save them both. We can't just leave Presto without trying to help, even Eric himself told us to go get him.'

Sheila glared up at him, tears on her cheek. He hated himself for doing this. OK, so Eric could be a jerk, but he was one of the group, even if he didn't act like it all the time. _Only it feels like I'm turning my back on him just because we had an argument._

And another thought bothered him. If it had been a different choice, if Sheila had been the one held captive by the Trogs, he would have moved Heaven and Earth to get her out, and absolutely nothing would have stood in his way.

Looking round at his friends, he realised he would have to be decisive. He felt terrible for leaving the Cavalier, but Presto needed them more. It really was that simple. He pulled himself up as tall as he could. He was the leader, after all.

'We have no choice,' he told them. 'We're going to find Presto.'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Race to the End.

Presto trudged onwards, hands tied behind his back. The Trogs had kept him walking for what felt like hours. He had no real sense of how much time had passed or how far he'd gone in these dank, depressing tunnels. It was also difficult to tell how many Trogs there were following behind, but he got the sense of hundreds of stomping feet as the noise echoed around the walls.

It difficult to keep optimistic under the circumstances; he was getting taken to "meet" the King Trog, and was worried about what was going to happen when he finally reached the Hall. But also he was anxious about Eric.

He desperately hoped the others would get the Cavalier out of that terrible place as soon as possible. The more of that stuff he drank, the more strange and disorientated he'd become. But the time Presto left, Eric had given up struggling. He was getting weaker with every drink and just lay, very still, on the floor of his cell only moving to be sick every so often. Presto hated seeing his best friend like that, but also he felt terrible knowing there was nothing he could do to help.

But he kept telling himself that Hank would know what to do, and wouldn't leave Eric at the mercy of the Trogs. OK, so those two had never really seen eye-to-eye, but the Ranger wouldn't let him suffer like that, no way! And as soon as they had the Cavalier, they would come after him.

He glanced round at his evil-smelling captors, wondering how they had gotten it into their small, lizard-like brains that Eric could "make" steel. The fact that he might have just worn it hadn't crossed their minds.

And just why the growing of steel was so important hadn't become clear until he'd been dragged of and shown to the whole Trog Clan, just before they'd left the Lair.

Steel seemed to be the whole basis of the Troglodyte culture, such as it was, and the Clan with the most steel were the ones with absolute control. Now they had (or thought they had) a human who could "make" steel for them, they were going to be the ones in charge!

The Trog Leader had made a special point of telling his comrades, in gruesomely graphic detail, exactly what would happen when Eric had "made" enough steel for a revolution. Just thinking about it made Presto nauseous again. If they were capable of doing THAT sort of thing to their own kind, what were they going to do to the poor ol' Cavalier when they discovered he couldn't make steel?

The Magician had realised that when the Trogs got back, they anticipated lots of lovely steel, and Presto then started to get seriously worried. There was no way Eric was gonna talk his way out of that one!

And even more frustratingly, instead of being able to help he had been dragged off to this dumb King-person's banquet. The only thing he could do was just hope that Hank and the others had gotten the Cavalier out before the Trogs discovered their mistake.

Meantime, all he had to do was 'entertain the King'. _That doesn't sound too difficult!_ (Yes, but what are you gonna "entertain" him with?) _Oh. _(Yes. Exactly. "Oh!")

But at least he did have his Hat. It had taken him a long time to realise that they had tucked the Hat into his belt before leaving the Lair, presumably so he looked nice for the King. But that didn't help. First, his hands were tied behind his back, but more importantly, Presto still couldn't bring himself to use the Hat again. It just didn't feel right to use it. It was so powerful and so dangerous, he couldn't control it and hardly ever got it to do what he wanted. He didn't ever want to use it again.

(Ever is a long time, Presto)

Well, maybe not ever, but this was a dangerous situation and using the Hat would probably just make things worse. It was not a chance he was gonna take, unless he really, really, REALLY had to.

Thinking about his weapon did nothing to help his mood, and he kept his spirits up by imagining his friends following the Trogs, trying to find him in the dark tunnels. So he kept dragging his feet, hoping to leave a trail and managed to keep going.

Eventually, after a long time in the dark, there were more scuffing noises from ahead, and everyone stopped. A sudden hope appeared in the Magician. Perhaps it was Hank!

The Clan took up a defensive stance, with their spears at the ready. He thought of escape, but the two Trog guards weren't taking any chances. Keeping very quiet, he waited, but instead of seeing a golden arrow bursting through the dark, all he heard were more grunts; disgruntled grunts at that.

'Clan Four,' hissed the Trog on his left. 'Huh! Stupid Gnome-eaters! They're lost again!'

More Trogs? From a different Clan; a rival Clan? Presto stayed very still, wondering what would happen next.

There were more grunts and whispers for a very long time, as the two Leaders argued about what was going to happen. Then another slave was shoved forward, also with two Guards, and the whole group moved off again.

It was a man, at least five years older than Hank. Tall, with torn clothes, he was also securely tied and looked at Presto with a wary frown. There was a vague feeling of familiarity about him, but the Magician dismissed it.

There was no opportunity to talk as they marched onwards, but eventually the Trogs decided a break was needed and Presto and the man were shoved against a wall as the Trogs rested.

Presto sank to the ground, grateful for the chance to stop. The man moved to sit beside him.

'H-hi,' said the Magician nervously. 'I'm Presto.'

The man nodded.

'And I am Smar,' he said.

That name, it was familiar for some reason, and the Magician wrinkled his forehead, trying to think. He had met him before, somewhere. _Umm. Where? I know it, I do…_(Shall I give you a clue?) C_lue? I don't need a clue… … …Oh, ok, I do need a clue…_(Think mushrooms, think dragons, think mercha…)

'Of course!' he said, a little too loudly, as one of the Trogs turned and hissed at him.

'Of course,' he said more quietly, 'the merchants we met by the Mushroom Forest! You're their new leader!'

He and his friends had just defeated the Stone Dragon they'd met in the Mushroom Forest, and were crossing the Plane towards another possible portal. The Merchants were on their way to the nearby village, and had given them food and an opportunity to rest in safety.

The man nodded again.

'You are one of Dungeonmaster's Star Pupils.' The man looked at his robes with a light frown. 'And yet, I do not remember you as the Magician.'

Presto gave a half smile. It was going to be difficult to explain what had happened, and he didn't really like thinking about it. They all gotten their identities and weapons swapped round by that dumb Wish, and he'd made a truly awful Acrobat.

'The Warlock's Castle was destroyed,' said Smar. 'And I believe we have you and your friends to thank.' Presto couldn't help blushing. 'We heard that the brave Ranger duelled with both the Warlock and Venger, and banished them!' The Magician frowned. It hadn't been like that at all, but trying to explain was not gonna be easy.

'There were some who did not trust that the Pupils of Dungeonmaster could challenge the Warlock and win,' continued Smar quietly. 'I was one, I am afraid to say. But you succeeded! And we could return home, free from the tyranny of the Warlock and his Dark Elves.'

Presto smiled. He was glad that they fight against the Warlock hadn't been a complete disaster. They'd come within just a few seconds of going through the portal in the Lightning Forest, and if it hadn't been for Eric, they would have been home.

The thought of the Cavalier made Presto worry again. He hoped Eric was OK. Hank would get to him in time, then come and free the other Trog slaves. Hank wouldn't let them down.

'My friends will come and help,' Presto said. 'I know they will.'

Smar gave a big grin.

'You fill me with hope, Magician. And I wish to shake your Ranger's hand.'

'Well, you know…' started Presto, but he didn't continue. Not only did Smar look like he wasn't listening, the Magician realised he didn't want to explain. Hopefully, the man would just forget about it. Instead, he asked:

'What's gonna happen to us? Do you know?'

Smar's grin vanished.

'Yes Magician, I do. Every year, the Troglodyte King demands the best slave from each Clan to be given to him, as a Pledge of honour and trust.' The way Smar spat those last words out just reinforced what Presto thought about Trogs. 'They take slaves from the lands above, especially Dwarves. They hate Dwarves in particular.'

'But I didn't see any others,' said the Magician.

'They would be kept somewhere secure,' replied Smar. 'And out of sight.'

'Figures,' said Presto. 'I didn't exactly get the guided tour.' His new friend looked confused at the reference, but didn't ask. 'Why don't they try and escape?'

Smar's top lip twitched.

'The Trogs are vicious creatures. If one were to escape, all the others would be eaten as punishment. No one dares try. They are too afraid.'

'That's terrible!' said Presto, 'All of them?'

Smar nodded.

'Yet it is very effective. Not one slave has ever made it out alive, once they are in a Trog cell.' He gave a mirthless smile. 'It is said that the only way out of a Trog cell is in a pot.'

Presto gulped.

'P-pot?'

Smar didn't bother to nod.

'So, Pledges don't sound too bad after all,' said Presto as hopefully as he could.

'But we are not much better off than those we left behind,' Smar said with a sigh. 'Whether it is by a Trog Clan, or the Trog King, we are all still eaten.'

'What!' said Presto. 'It's in the pots for us all anyway?'

Smar nodded.

_Entertain the King…_(Not sounding so good now, is it?) _It's not the entertainment I had in mind!_

There was a grim silence. So he was gonna get eaten. How many times had that almost happened to him since they arrived in the Realm? They'd almost been lunch for some creature or other almost every second day. But what was really depressing wasn't so much the fact that he was gonna end up on the wrong side of a dinner table, it was that he wasn't even surprised any more. This place was definitely getting to him. The Trogs close by shifted a little. Their rest wasn't gonna last much longer.

'What I don't understand,' said Presto eventually, 'is why they got so worked up about making steel?'

The man caught his breath.

'Making steel?' said Smar urgently 'What do you know! Tell me!'

'Me and a friend were captured last night. They think he can make steel. What are they…'

The man was looking around nervously. The Guards were starting to look restless. They would be moving again soon. But when Smar next spoke, his voice was almost too quiet to hear.

'This friend? He made steel? For the Clan?'

Presto shook his head.

'No,' he whispered back, 'they made a mistake. Eric was wearing steel armour, and he had a steel Shield, and they just thought he "made" it.' It was making even less sense each time he thought about it. But Smar was looking worried. 'What's it all about?'

'There is a Prophecy,' Smar told him. 'These creatures love steel, they think of it all the time. They believe there is someone, a human, who can "create" steel. The Clan who owns such a human would be invincible. That is why they take humans from above.'

'Eric?'

The man nodded.

'But they're wrong! Eric can't make steel, he just wore it!'

'When the Trogs discover this, your friend will be in very great danger.'

Presto hesitated. He didn't really want to know, but he had to ask anyway.

'They fed him this stuff, a drink. Do you know…?' Presto stopped. The look on the other man's face was frightening.

'H-he drank it? T-the Water of the Trogs?'

Presto sighed.

'He didn't have a lotta choice. They forced him.'

The man looked shaken.

'The Water of the Trogs is not made for us humans to drink,' said Smar carefully. Presto waited but the other man didn't say anything else, and the expression on his face made the Magician very glad of his ignorance. But, before he could think of another question, the Trogs nearby started to stand. It was time to go, and they wouldn't get the chance to talk again.

As the Trog Guards pulled him up and pushed him forward, Presto thought back to the condition Eric was in with that same, terrible sinking feeling. There was no way Eric was gonna be able to do anything to stop the Trogs.

Hank and the others were his only hope.

* * *

They travelled all day, towards the biggest mountain, and hopefully Presto.

Following their noses, they and had found a Trog entrance hole, stinking as usual. In spite of the danger that they might have met more Trogs, they had all gone in this time, even the reluctant unicorn, and were moving down towards the centre of the mountain.

Hank was guiding them forward, praying he had read the tracks correctly. It was desperately slow going. The glow from the weapons added to the dim torchlight, but every time the found some marks in the mud, but they couldn't be sure which way they were heading, there were too many footprints. He drove them on ruthlessly, not even allowing any breaks for food or water. But, even as they went, he knew it wasn't going to work.

They weren't gonna make it in time, there was too much ground to cover. Presto was gonna end up in the Hall before they could reach him.

He cursed himself.

This was all going wrong. They weren't going to reach Presto in time to help, and he'd left Eric behind…He'd made the wrong call.

Bobby, Uni and Diana walked ahead, keeping a close look out for any sign of more Trogs, or Presto. Sheila was walking at the very back, her head bowed. She wouldn't even look at him.

Finally, Hank couldn't stand it any longer. This had to be one of the worst times of Hank's life; not only was he haunted by the worry he only chose to go after Presto because of that stupid argument with the Cavalier last night, but he'd managed to hurt Sheila in the process. He hated seeing her so unhappy, so he slowed and fell into step beside her. When she looked up at him, he could see the glint of fresh tears.

They walked for a while in silence, but eventually the Thief spoke.

'Did you know this was gonna happen, Hank?' she asked. 'Did you know what they would do?'

He couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't bring himself to explain.

'No. Not really,' he said.

'Not really…but…' she prompted. He remembered the Amazons words once again: _they're the worst sort of evil, vicious carnivores that it's been my misfortune to meet in this crappy place. _If that wasn't a warning about how dangerous they were, what was?

'I didn't know what they would do,' he paused, 'but I knew they were cruel. And Evil. And capable of almost anything.'

There were more tears in her eyes. He hated himself for hurting her like this.

'You should have told me,' she said. 'You should have trusted me.'

She didn't say it bitterly, but he could tell she was very upset.

'Look, Sheila, I thought it was for the best.'

Her scowl hurt more than he'd excepted.

'For the best? You had no right to make that choice, Hank! I was the one who had to…' she stopped. 'I turned my back on him, Hank. I left him behind to die. You should have told me what you knew, then, at least I might have been prepared.'

Hank felt his stomach lurch. He didn't know which part he hated himself for more; leaving the Cavalier or getting Sheila into this situation.

'He's not gonna die,' said Hank, putting an arm round he shoulder. _But that wasn't what Dungeonmaster had said: there will only be time to help one…Oh God, what have I done?_

He forced himself to think of the rest of the riddle, they certainly had no allies, they hadn't seen anyone since they'd left Mindril, but what about the key to their trust? What did a key matter, if they couldn't find anyone? The riddle made no sense. It was no comfort to think of all the times the riddles had eventually made sense, as this time, the Ranger had the terrible feeling he wasn't going to figure it out in time. If he didn't, they were all gonna…

'Hey, Hank!' called Diana suddenly, distracting him from his depressing thoughts. She was pointing to the ground. Close to the wall, clear in the mud, was a Presto-sized boot-print, pointing the way they were heading.

Hank gave a big smile, relieved that at least they were going in the right direction. They still had to catch up with the Trog Clan, and figure out a way of freeing the Magician, but they had at least done one thing right. He gave Sheila's shoulder a quick squeeze.

'It will be OK,' Hank assured her, wishing he believed it himself. 'We'll help Presto and get back for Eric, you'll see.'

Sheila glared at him.

'But if you're wrong, Eric's gonna end up dead,' she said. 'And it's gonna be our fault!'

* * *

Aching. Afraid. Alone.

It was the story of his life these days! How many times had this happened recently? He couldn't even be bothered keeping count.

Eric was still sitting at the back of his cage, awaiting yet another visit from the Guard. Sheila had long since gone, along with any hope of help, but the Cavalier was very close to not caring anymore. He wasn't even sure why he'd said what he'd said to her. What had happened to his selfish attitude? What had happened to his looking-out-for-Number-One-attitude that had worked so well in the past? What had changed?

He gave a tiny scowl; that was such a dumb question! He already knew what had changed, but why was he doing this? Was it really just to prove a point to someone he'd probably never see again?

But ultimately it was the look on his best friend's face that had made it easy. How could the Magician be dumb enough to take the word "entertain" at face value, anyway? Presto would be very lucky not to end up as a Wizard sandwich, unless the others got to him first!

The Cavalier was ashamed he didn't have the courage to tell Presto outright what the Trogs obviously wanted him for. He couldn't face bringing Presto back down to earth like that; the Magician was having a hard enough time dealing with the Hat, without worrying about his own safety too. And at least Presto hadn't been fed that… stuff; it was making him feel strange, in a way he didn't like.

He had stopped being sick a few hours ago, which had pleased the Guard for a time. But over the past few hours, he'd noticed a change in the Trog. At first it had looked bored, but with each visit, it became increasingly angry and Eric knew time was running out fast.

It knew he didn't make steel. He knew, it knew. And it knew, he knew, it knew. How long it would be before the Guard finally decided he wasn't worth the effort was anybody's guess.

But not even that was the most pressing problem, as very soon it wasn't gonna matter what the Trog thought; Eric was gonna be unconscious if he drank any more. The liquid burned each time he swallowed some, and slowly it had gotten into his system, and it made the rest of him burn too. He could feel his body slowing down; it took an effort of will to focus on the ground or to even move his head.

He didn't know what was in it (and he NEVER wanted to find out), but it was toxic with a capital T.

Part of him, the more optimistic part, was all for giving up and hoping that somehow he survived. After all, that strategy had worked surprisingly well so far in the Realm, even against Demodragon. But the tiny part of him that took a more objective view was telling him that there wasn't gonna be a last minute rescue this time. His friends weren't suddenly gonna come bursting through the door to help him. He'd made sure of that himself.

Forcing himself to think and not panic, he tried to weight up the options. If he was going to do something, it would have to be now.

He knew he couldn't take much more of that stuff. This was his last chance. Any more and he was never going to recover. Logic won out over apathy and his hand formed into a fist: the decision was made. Even though he could hardly move, he was not going to stand for this any longer. The next time it showed it's face, that Trog Guard was gonna get a whole lot more than it bargained for.

He pushed himself up to kneeling, ignoring the numbness and nausea he got every time he moved. There was only one thing he could do.

It wasn't much of a plan; catch the Guard off balance and run, hopefully getting to the cage door first. It always left the key in the door, every time without fail. If he could get out first, he should be able to trap it.

Eric waited, trying to concentrate in spite of the sickness and the fear. He knew this was a long shot. He was feeling weak, and light-headed, and ached through to his soul. The Trog wasn't just gonna let him walk out without trying to stop him.

Sure, he'd been picked on and beaten up, but he'd never actually been in a real fight before. Not a proper, one-on-one brawl, and certainly not with something as big and strong as that overgrown lizard Guard. He'd watched from the sidelines, but had always managed to talk his way out of problems, one way or another.

This was different. There was only one way to get out of this.

He seemed to wait for hours before he heard the click of the lock and the bolt begin slid back on the main door.

Breath caught in the back of his throat. He'd never really noticed how big that thing was. This wasn't gonna work! _But I've gotta try,_ he told himself. _I have to try!_

The Trog Guard lumbered over, unlocked the door of the cage and took two steps forward, reaching out to grab Eric by the arm, just as it had done each time before. Except this time, the Cavalier ducked just before it caught him and rolled sideways over the ground towards the open door.

The Guard hissed in anger and lunged after him. Eric managed to push himself standing and swung a right hook round as hard as he could at the Trog's face. It connected with an agonising crunch; Eric was sure he had broken his hand, but the Trog stumbled back, taken by surprise at the force. It only took a few seconds, but that was all the Cavalier need to reach the door, pull it shut and lock it, taking the key out too, just to be on the safe side.

Then he stumbled back against the wall, his hand throbbing, watching the enraged Trog try to break free.

It wasn't going to take him very long.

Eric gulped down air, trying to stop panicking. This hadn't been part of the plan, the Trog was supposed to stay in the cage. It wasn't supposed to break out! What was he gonna do now?

As it howled and hammered on the wooden bars of the cage, Eric staggered out of the door, pushing it shut, but knowing all it would do was slow the Guard down. The next door ahead wasn't going to be much better, but Eric forced himself to move again.

He shut the second door, and leaned against it. The was no noise from behind, but the Guard would be coming, it wasn't gonna take it more than a few minutes to smash its way out of the cell.

He had to buy himself more time. He had to try and…

But instead of doing something useful, like running, the Cavalier wobbled, then slumped to the ground. He had never felt like this before. Light-headed, unpleasant, evil; this was the worst feeling in the world. He looked down at his right hand, realising that he couldn't even flex it. The knuckle had split and he was gonna have a fabulous bruise there in a few hours… if he was still alive in a few hours.

_What's the point in running?_ he asked himself. He could never get far enough away to escape. And how was he gonna find the others, they were off helping Presto and probably weren't within miles.

He closed his eyes, wondering how he could have been dumb enough to think that life was finally going to go his way for a while. He'd enjoyed being leader; and as for the Harlequin, well…

There was a grating thump from somewhere behind, squashing the fleeting thoughts.

He had to move, but he knew the Trog would hunt him down if he tried to run.

For the first time, he looked around properly. In front of him were two doors, one was half open, and from what he could see, the room behind looked like it was full of junk. The other door was very sturdy, with a heavy lock on it.

And it gave him an idea. He couldn't run, but maybe he could hide for long enough to lose the Guard and find a different way out.

He pushed himself up, and tried the key in the lock. It turned with a rusty rasp, and Eric pushed open the door and went in, ignoring the sudden worry that he'd walked into the Trog nursery or something. He made sure the door was shut before looking up.

He had never seen anything like it.

There were rows upon rows upon rows of wooden cages, all stuffed with people. Almost all of them were grimy-looking Dwarfs, with a few Gnomes thrown in for good measure. They stared at him as if he had five heads, which had a depressingly familiar feel to it.

And he stared back at them, too sick to feel properly surprised. He didn't even wonder what they were doing there; he just stared.

From the middle cage, a Dwarf stood up and moved to the bars. Perhaps he had once been of high rank, as all the others looked at him with the greatest respect. He was only four foot high and had thick red hair and a long platted beard that almost reached the floor. As the Dwarf stood, thick chains jangled, and Eric realised they were all securely manacled together.

A wave of sickness hit him, and he swayed. What was he going to do? He couldn't help, and he couldn't hide. _What am I gonna do?_

The Dwarf gestured him forward and pointed at Eric's left hand. The Cavalier looked down, surprised to see that he was still holding the Trog's big, copper key. The Dwarf said something incomprehensible, pointing to the key. So Eric moved forward and held it out, just because it seemed to be important.

The Dwarf took it and turned to his cellmates, chattering wildly in a clumsy-sounding language.

Then, abruptly, there was dead silence. Eric didn't need to be told why. He turned, feeling the room swim as he moved his head. The Trog guard was at the door, looking very, very annoyed.

Eric stood still, waiting for the overwhelming panic he'd so often felt. But it never came. He could hardly feel anything anymore, and he didn't move as the Guard walked forward slowly, glaring at him. He saw it flex its claws ready to attack.

He tried to dodge to blow, but the Trog was too fast. It grabbed his shoulder; he could feel the claws sinking in. He expected pain, but there was only a dull, itchy feeling.

The room spun as he was dragged out and back down to the cell. He knew that once he got there he was never ever getting out again, not that he had the strength to do anything about it.

He had just made everything worse. But somewhere deep inside he felt he'd made the right decision. Those Trogs were gonna get him one way or another, and at least he hadn't gone down without some sort of a fight.

The Guard slammed Eric against the wall of his prison, knocking the breath out of him, and forced the liquid down his throat once more. He coughed and spluttered, only swallowing a mouthful.

But that was enough. His throat burned as if he'd drunk liquid fire and everything started to slip out of focus. This was it. He'd cheated death many times before but now, the game was finished.

'Ssss-teel!' it hissed. The Trog gripped him by the throat, pulling him up off the ground. 'Make it!'

The Guard slowly tightened its grip making the world go fuzzy round the edges.

And the last thing Eric remembered was the bright, angry gleam in the Trog's eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Consequences

Under other circumstances, Presto would have given up a long ago; a never-ending march in the dark along a stinking maze of tunnels was not his idea of a fun way to spend an afternoon!

There was nobody to speak to; he'd long lost sight of Smar, as the two Trog Clans kept separate. It was easy to remember how it had felt to be truly alone, and nothing would ever come close to that again, so the Magician kept reminding himself that Hank and the others would come after him once they'd help Eric.

But after hours of marching, even Presto found it hard to keep his hopes up. Perhaps the others had gotten lost, perhaps they were too far behind; there were any number of possibilities. And there was always a chance that they'd run into some sort of trouble.

A thin smile crossed his face: they were already in trouble! Trouble seemed to follow them in this stupid place! They couldn't even get across the dumb mountains without something like this happening!

He wondered yet again where the others were – had Dungeonmaster come to help them? Had the old Guide given them any clue to help defeat these horrible creatures?

He could still remember the nasty, smug smile the Clan Leader had given him as they'd left the Lair: this Clan though they had it made – the human who "Made Steel" and enough of the sacred metal to build a new empire.

He shuddered. How had they been dumb enough to get involved? How had they been dumb enough to get captured?

(This isn't helping, Presto!)

There was nothing to do but keep his head down and hope the others hurried up.

(What about the Hat?) _What about the Hat? I can't reach it, so there's no point in talking about it. _(Uni used it with just her mouth, remember!) _So?_(I was just saying that…) _Well, don't!_

He didn't want to think about the Hat.

The Hat couldn't help.

And even if he could reach it, what was he going to do? How was he going to get it to work properly and get rid of these Trogs? It was much more likely to get rid of him again, or worse…

_I don't want to think about it._

He trusted Hank. The others would come and help.

He walked on.

The constant shuffling noises and the monotony of the tunnels had lulled Presto into a kind of trance and he had stopped watching where he was going, so it came as a nasty surprise to suddenly be dragged forward and pushed into a brightly lit Hall that was full of Trogs; thousand and thousands of them, and the smell was so strong that it made his eyes water. But even as he was pushed forward towards the slave pens, he couldn't help looking around in wonder.

It was beautiful; far too beautiful to be the work of the Trogs. The Hall had been hollowed out of the living stone, polished until smooth and inlaid with multicoloured gems and minerals. Strange symbols and motifs, that had an oddly Pagan feel to them, were drawn out in stone. And on the floor, under the muck and dust from thousands of Trog feet, the Magician could just make out part of a huge mosaic, depicting a giant blue Dragon, with three heads and huge cobalt-blue wings.

Glancing up to the ceiling high above, Presto stumbled in surprise. Instead of more glittering stone and smooth rock, all he could see were bits of steel dangling down: swords, arrows, pans, pots; pretty well anything that had ever been made of steel. They swung gently as if stirred by a light breeze, but any sound they made was drowned out by the harsh, guttural noises from the Trogs.

He was dragged forward through the crowd and pushed into a cage, were there were another seven humans, as well as Smar the Merchant. Each other others looked at him with great surprise; they were all older, and all looked important, one even wore the uniform of a Zinn Guard.

His hands had been untied, so he pulled the Hat out of his belt and looked down at it.

(C'mon, Presto! Use the damn Hat and let's get outta here!)

But he didn't use the weapon, in spite of the situation. He didn't have to use it yet. It wasn't too bad; he still had time to get out of there without resorting to the Hat. The others wouldn't be long.

So, instead of using about the Hat, the Magician looked round the Hall nervously, wondering yet again where the others were. But his attention was distracted by all the activity. The mood in the Hall was tense, Presto could feel the underlying hostility as if it were a thick blanket around his shoulders. The different Trog Clans were all watching each other. It wasn't going to take much to get them at each other's throats. Presto grimaced as he remembered what the Leader intended to do, once he had enough steel. He gulped._ Please hurry up, Hank._

The chattering and sniffing continued for a number of minutes then, finally, a hush fell on the Hall. Everyone was looking towards one of the entrances. Presto turned to look too.

There was the clang of metal, and the King appeared. It was bigger than the others, and had a small, steel crown on its head. There was a ruthless look in its eye that Presto hadn't seen before in a Trog. By its side were three burly bodyguards that growled and hissed at the others. The King looked around the Hall slowly, and nobody dared move.

This was no ordinary Leader; this creature knew what it was doing, and knew how to keep its subjects in order. This was another Trog that wouldn't hesitate to extract a violent and bloody revenge on its enemies; Troglodyte or not. The Magician shuddered.

But as he glanced at the other Trogs in the Hall and it was clear to Presto that all the Trogs hated the King; and they hated having to give up their best slave each year. It wasn't a very stable form of government; all it was gonna take was a little push and the whole system was gonna come crashing down. He looked back, towards the Trog Leader that had brought him. That one was gonna make his play for power soon. When it had enough steel, it would be the one standing on the platform with the steel crown, feasting on the flesh of its one-time comrades.

Presto gulped back the sick feeling. He desperately hoped the others were gonna show up soon and help get him out of this, before the revolution!

There was a whisper behind him, and the Magician turned. Smar had been talking to the other men, and they were all looking at Presto with great interest. He guessed Smar had told them about Eric as "The One Who Makes Steel". For some reason, the Magician's heart gave a tiny lurch at the thought of his friend. _He'd better be alright…_

During the trip to the Hall, Presto had assumed that whatever as at the other end would naturally take a long time to start properly. All the formal events he'd been to had involved lots of talking, and speeches, and occasionally a bit of singing too.

But to his great alarm, the King just glared once more round the Hall and shouted:

'Where are my Gifts!'

His alarm turned to full blown panic as a burly Trog Guard reached into the cage and pulled the Magician up onto the platform.

He stood there, dwarfed by the King, looking out across a sea of a thousand Trog faces.

(Is now a good time to use the Hat?) _Well, no… not yet… let's wait and see what happens._ (WAIT! What for? The dinner gong?)

He tried to stand up tall, but the King didn't look impressed.

'Who brings me this, thing!' it asked with an angry hiss.

The Leader of the group that had brought him pushed its way through to the front, looking up at the King and Presto.

'You?' said the King, the anger in its voice made Presto shake. 'You dare to give me something like THIS!'

The Leader didn't answer, and it glared at the Magician with a nasty smile. He could almost hear it chanting the word "Steel" to itself.

The King gave a low hiss and turned to Presto, licking its lips. The Magician gulped.

'I-I do magic,' he stammered. (Oh, that's just great, Presto! Well done!) _Well, I had to do something!_ (But you're gonna have to use the Hat, dummy!) _Maybe not, perhaps the King will…_

'You? Magic!' it said. There was a ripple of laughter round the Hall and Presto felt his cheeks flush in shame. The laughter hurt more than he'd thought it would, because they were right. Him, doing magic; it was a joke!

He was too scared to try.

That was the cold, hard truth. He'd tried to tell himself that he could cope wit the Hat, he'd tried to believe that he was the one in control, but that was a lie, as the Hat seemed to have a mind of its own. And since the trip back to the Underworld he hadn't even used it. What if the Hat wouldn't work? Or worse, what if it DID work; the way it worked last time. He couldn't face that, not again.

Behind the King, one of the guards took a small step forward, it's clawed hand reaching for a knife, but still the Magician didn't move.

(You've gotta DO something, Presto!) _Yes, but…_(C'mon, Presto! Do something!) _Yes, but…_(Please, Presto. Get yourself out of this. You can…)

In spite of the acute feeling of despair, Presto nodded. It was too late for the others to come, he had to help himself, but what was he gonna do? How was he ever going to control the Hat? His hit rate was one in six, at best!

He remembered what the Knight had told him: Consequences, there are always consequences to magic. And he knew so very little about how the Hat actually worked…

He had to concentrate. But what did he want?

Usually, he had relied on the Hat to come up with something good, that fitted the situation, like an air-craft carrier or a six foot rabbit. But this time, he decided he wanted a specific type of thing. Nothing complicated, nothing dangerous. He had to make something that would distract them from dinner. And there was only one thing that seemed more important to food: Steel.

As the Guard drew closer, Presto finally waved his hand over the Hat and said:

'Abra- cadabra, we'll make them a deal,

I want something big, that is made of steel.'

Presto finished his spell, and the Hat glowed faint green. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and the Magician grinned at the Trogs, worried. Those pots were very close by.

Then there was a shudder from the Hat and a shimmer of pale green light. When he looked round, he discovered he was standing beside 10-foot, steel statue of the King Troglodyte, in incredible detail. A hush spread round the room as the King himself moved towards it, and gave it a tentative tap with a claw.

It blinked, and turned back to him.

'You are The One Who Makes Steel,' whispered the King in awe. He lifted his hands and turned to his subjects. 'All praise The One Who Makes Steel!'

A cheer went up that made Presto wish he had no ears, but he couldn't deny the wonderful, exhilarating feeling of relief that poured into him. He'd done it! It had worked, just as he needed it too!

He'd done it! Now all he had to do was…

'Give me more!' demanded the King.

The Magician caught his breath, not wanting to stay here for a moment longer than he had to. But the Guard with the knife was still close, so tried again, waving his hand slowly over the weapon, concentrating hard on what he wanted. _More steel…_

He produced a small cylinder, made of solid steel, that the King could hardly keep his eyes off. But it wasn't satisfied. More steel…

Over and over again he produced steel; each of different shapes and sizes, and every bit gloated over by the King.

'Just wait 'til they discover economics!' he murmured to himself.

The King showed no signs of growing tired of all this steel, but Presto slowly began to get tired. The more he produced, the more he hurt. Again and again, he concentrated hard, the strain was almost to much for him. His head hurt, body hurt, his whole soul ached in a way he'd never felt before. Magic seemed to be sucking the life out of him. The Hat had never affected him like this before, but then, the Hat had never worked so well before, either.

Finally, and just before he passed out with the effort, the King stopped him.

'Enough… for now,' said the King Trog with a manic smile, surrounded in more steel than it could have imagined.

Presto gratefully lowered his Hat, but as he looked round at the awed Trogs below the platform he saw something that made his heart almost stop. The Trog Leader that had brought him was looking absolutely furious, and was whispering to another of its kind. The other Trog nodded and turned to leave, quickly pushing its way through the crowd. Presto suddenly felt sick.

_Eric! They've realised the mistake! _(You've gotta stop it!)

But before he could move, the King said:

'There is no need for the other Pledges! Prepare the pots!'

The Magician jolted round in surprise, to see Smar and the other with shocked looks on their faces. This was NOT supposed to happen!

I have to do something, quickly, but… 

'Hey, no, wait a minute,' Presto said. 'I can make other stuff, anything you want, you don't have to eat them. Look!'

But no one was listening to him. The Guards were already moving to the cage, and he could see Smar cast a desperate look in his direction. The other Trog had already reached the back and was heading back down the tunnels to the Lair and the unfortunate Cavalier. What was he going to do. He had to help the Pledges, but what about Eric? _What can I do? I can't do both…_

In spite of his panic and indecision, Presto somehow managed to think logically for a few seconds. He should stop that Trog, but Hank would have gotten the Cavalier out of the Lair long ago. And if it met the others in the tunnels, Hank was sure to drive it off.

So he had to help his fellow slaves. The Hat would work, if only he could use it one more time, he should have enough strength for that. One more spell to help the others.

The whole Trog community was baying for their blood, and no one in particular was watching him, except that Trog Leader. He had to be quick and lifted the Hat. He should…

'STOP HIM!' bellowed a voice from close by.

The King had suddenly realised its mistake, and had turned back, its claws out. He only had a few seconds.

'Hat, make as much steel as you can!'

Presto knew it had failed even before he'd finished the words. He hadn't concentrated on what he wanted, the way he'd done before. He didn't even have the chance to see what it did; the searing pain in his head made him pass out.

* * *

Hank knew they were close; he could smell it. Those Trogs made a stench that penetrated everywhere. He had given up hope of getting to Presto before he reached the Hall, but they still had no time to lose. They needed to see what they were dealing with, and they could form a plan to get their friend back.And then get back for Eric… 

And then get back for the Cavalier.

The Ranger glanced at Sheila as she walked beside him, her eyes constantly focused on the ground. He knew she was desperate to help their lost comrade, and it was only his orders that were keeping her from going off on her own. He could sense her uneasiness, but there was nothing he could say to her that would help. The decision was made, and they had to keep going to the end.

Slowly, the tunnel got wider and the smell grew. From a short way ahead, the unicorn started to whinny, and everyone sped up, hoping they were close.

Sure enough, round the next corner was a beautiful, bright Hall, with lights gleaming off the walls, and Hank could see Trogs all standing, facing the other way. He watched for a few seconds, trying to form a plan to get past all those creatures, when it struck him there was something odd about this.

The Hall was strangely silent and it took him a few moments to realise what was wrong. None of the Trogs were moving. And they were all a dull grey, not the usual dull green.

The Ranger tiptoed forward, but they still didn't move.

He walked up to the back of the nearest one and gave it a very, very small prod with the tip of the Bow.

Nothing happened.

He prodded it harder, with the same effect, as the others came up to join him.

'Hank, what's happened?' whispered Diana. 'Why are they standing like this?'

The Ranger shrugged.

'What if Presto is like this too?' said Sheila suddenly, her voice shaking. 'We have to find him!'

They moved forward through the crowd of inert Troglodytes, desperate to find the Magician. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to Presto.

Much to Hank's relief, there was movement and colour ahead, on the raised platform. In front of a group of more still Trogs, a small group of humans were huddled together, with the green-robed Magician sitting on the floor in the middle of the group, holding his head.

He looked up at the Ranger and gave him a huge smile, which Hank happily returned.

'Boy, am I glad to see you guys!'

Sheila rushed up and flung her arms round him.

'We were so worried,' she said. 'What happened? Why are all the Trogs like… that?'

The Magician didn't answer; instead he looked up towards one of the men by his side. Hank felt a faint flicker of recognition; hadn't they met before somewhere?

'The Magician's spell turned any Trog holding steel into steel itself,' said the man with a grin. 'And when the Dwarves return, they well have a fine time melting them down! It will keep them in tempered steel for an age!'

'Dwarves?' asked Hank, confused. No one had said anything about Dwarves.

'Yeah,' said Presto. 'Trogs keep Dwarf slaves. There are some in every Lair.'

Dwarves, trapped? Back in the Lair? They had to help!

'Do not worry,' said a man in a grimy uniform. 'We have a chance to free our fellow slaves, and we will take it!

'It is the race to the end,' explained the first man. 'The Dwarves will not be able to free themselves without our assistance, but there are few Trogs left now in this part of the Realm!' He gave Presto a hearty smile, that the Magician returned, then pulled a spear from one of the statues behind. He gave Hank's hand a hearty shake. 'And I am proud to have met you again, Ranger. You are welcome in my village at any time. You have done us a great service.'

Hank was too surprised to speak. He hadn't done anything! But the man was gone before the Ranger had a chance to reply.

'It's OK, I'll explain later,' Presto said with a small smile. 'And since it's all OK, and you found Er…'

Hank could see as the realisation hit Presto; who was missing.

'Where's Eric?' he looked round in fear. 'You did get him outta there. Didn't you?'

Hank wouldn't look him in the eye.

'You came here, to get me? You left Eric, and came after me?'

'We couldn't leave you with the Trogs,' said Hank.

Presto choked back a cry.

'We only had time to help one,' added Sheila.

The Magician looked at him as if he'd just killed Eric with his bare hands. How was Hank ever going to live with that?

'But…' spluttered Presto. 'They know he doesn't make steel! They sent one back to the Lair!'

Looking back afterwards, Hank couldn't remember clearly what he did or said next. But less than a minute later they were all back in the tunnels, moving as fast as they could, with only a vague hope that they were going the right way. Uni tried to follow the trail back, and she gave them at least a good idea of which tunnel to take, but it was taking far, far too long.

If only they had more time, if only they'd not been so slow…

Dungeonmaster's words were loud in his head. _There will only be time to help one._ Well, they'd helped him, they'd helped Presto and now they were going back to see if anything was left of the Cavalier. The one he'd left behind.

It was strange how much he cared; Eric could be such a jerk, and such a source of trouble, but the thought of him dead was terrible. They had had their differences, but they were friends.

He cursed himself for making the choice. This was the worst decision he'd made as leader. Presto had been perfectly fine, and hadn't needed their help at all. They had gone after the wrong one! How could he have thought that Eric would be OK? How could he have been so blind? This was the Cavalier they were talking about! The one who never did the right thing unless he absolutely had to, the one who always slunk along at the back, ready to run at a moments notice… Why hadn't he helped the weaker one? There was the quietest reply in the back of his mind: _It's because you like Presto better than Eric._

They ran on, the little unicorn always galloping ahead. He couldn't keep track of the time and none of them dared to slow down and rest. It really was the race to the end.

He didn't dare think. He didn't dare do anything but keep on moving.

Finally, they found another tunnel that taper out to a Trog Lair, and they stopped at the tunnel entrance.

'This is the place,' whispered Sheila. 'This is the right Lair, but…'

Hank looked round in confusion. It looked like a riot had taken place. Anything that could be broken had been smashed into small pieces. There was the acrid smell of smoke too, rather than the stench of those creatures.

But it was quiet, as quiet as the Hall had been, and too quiet for Hank's liking. There could be any number of Trog Guards lying in wait. They had to get this over with quickly.

What's happened? 

Hank hesitated, he didn't want the others seeing what might have happened to Eric, the Barbarian in particular. But there was no was he was gonna persuade Sheila or Presto to wait while he checked things out alone, and the Thief headed off down the ramp without waiting to hear what he said.

Before he followed her, Hank turned to the others

'Diana, go with Bobby. Check the rest of the Lair and find any more slaves.'

The Barbarian looked angry, but the Acrobat understood what Hank meant, and guided Bobby towards the back, with Uni following close behind.

Presto didn't move at first, but looked up at Hank blankly, then together they followed Sheila down the ramp. Their main goal was the lower cells, where Presto and Eric had been held, but as they drew close, they could see something had happened. It wasn't how Sheila had described it. The wood on the doors was splintered, as it if they'd been forced open by an axe. The Thief herself had stopped by the door to the cells, waiting for him.

Hank took a slow breath, and forced himself go first. He stepped slowly over the smashed bits of wood, towards the second door, and paused at the entrance before daring to look up.

Eric was lying face down, close to a smashed cell, his bruised right hand sitting in a pool of blood. There were three deep gashes in his shoulder, and the Cavalier's body was peppered with smaller cuts and bruises.

The Ranger was almost sick, and so overwhelmed with guilt that he didn't notice anything else, he was only able to stare at their friend. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. This was all his fault. Eric was…

Sheila had pushed past, and knelt beside the Cavalier, and was gently stroking the back of his head.

'Eric?'

The Cavalier groaned. For the second time that day, Hank was almost overwhelmed with relief. Eric was alive!

But as the Cavalier tried to move, Hank realised just how close he'd come to disaster. Eric was very weak and could hardly move without help. Hank glanced anxiously back to the ramp-way. They had to be quick. Who knows how many Trogs could be left here? They couldn't afford to hang around and find out.

'He needs help,' said Sheila desperately, looking round at the Ranger with tears in her eyes. 'Hank, please, what can we do?'

The Ranger didn't have a good reply; the look of accusation in her eyes was unmistakable. He'd let this happen, in spite of what she'd said.

'I'll try the Hat,' said Presto, kneeling down too. But he was holding the Hat as if it was gonna bite. It looked like it was an extreme effort to say anything connected with the weapon. Still the Magician managed to murmur something, there was a green glow and a small bottle dropped out of the Hat into his hand, and he let the Cavalier have a tiny sip before…

'Hank,' said Diana quietly, from just beside him.

The Ranger managed to drag his gaze away from the Cavalier to look round. The Acrobat was holding Eric's armour and Shield.

'We didn't find anyone, anywhere. I think we're the only people within miles! There were some empty cages and this, at the back of the storeroom. The vault had been smashed, and everything else was gone.'

She couldn't take her eyes off Eric, but behind her Bobby was staring at something else.

Hank turned to see where the Barbarian was looking. Behind the cage was the remains of the Trog guard, lying on its side, impaled by a single, short sword.

Hank stared at it for a couple of seconds. Eric couldn't have…could he? He couldn't have done anything like that. He hated combat, he ran at the first sight of trouble. He couldn't have fought the Guard. This was Eric, for goodness sake!

He looked again. The sword was lodged deep in the Trog's back. Hank shuddered. He could just see Eric, frightened and desperate enough to do that. Perhaps it had its back turned and he'd just lashed out…

Hank was in shock. He would never have guessed Eric had it in him. That the Cavalier had killed it was bad enough, but knowing one of his friends was capable of this level of violence shook him to the core. Perhaps it was the Trog Water, perhaps it had done something to Eric… or perhaps he'd just wanted revenge. The Ranger didn't like that thought. And he couldn't shake the feeling that this was all somehow his fault. If only they'd come for their Cavalier first.

'Nice… of you to…drop by,' said Eric. He was standing up on his own, but Sheila and Presto were close by. He seemed taller, thinner than before. Diana gave him back his armour and his Shield and he dressed in silence. Then Sheila gently put her arms round him, and gave him a quick hug.

'We're all glad you're safe,' she said as she let go.

Eric, though obviously embarrassed by the show of affection, managed a smile as Presto handed him the cape back.

'Thanks, guys,' he said, fixing it around his neck. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up tall, assuming the carefree-Cavalier pose he so carefully cultivated. 'So, who's tell me what happened, then?'

His tone was light, but there was an edge of smugness about it and he was looking round at the others expectantly, as if the question was rhetorical. That was enough to turn Hank's stomach. The last thing he could stand to hear at that moment was the Cavalier boasting about what he'd done.

'We've seen the Guard,' he snapped, gesturing at the remains of the Trog, 'and I think we can figure out what you did, without a description.'

Amazingly, Eric looked hurt at Hank's words and the Ranger might have asked, but for the disgust inside him.

There was an unpleasant silence.

'What is that?' asked Sheila, pointing to the ground where Eric had been lying.

There was a large, copper key, and Eric slowly bent down to pick it up, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. He gripped the key tightly for a few seconds, as he was surprised to see it, then turned back to the others.

'It's just a… souvenir. I suppose.'

A key? It made Hank think back to the riddle: _Help those unable to help themselves. Find the key to their trust._ Was this what Dungeonmaster had meant, this key…? And what allies, Dwarves? What HAD happened here?

He looked towards his friend, suddenly feeling ashamed of always thinking the worst. There was obviously more to tell than Eric had let on, and no doubt they'd get the real story soon enough; the Cavalier could never resist a boast. Hank smiled. It was good to see Eric back on his feet and relatively OK, and he should tell him so…

Suddenly Bobby let out a yelp, distracting the Ranger.

The Barbarian had pulled a phial of liquid off the floor and had opened up the stopper.

'Euw! How gross is THAT!' said Bobby loudly 'It's…ouch!' He looked round at the Acrobat who'd poked his arm. Sheila was scowling at him too. The young Barbarian looked sheepishly up at the Cavalier.

'Gee, sorry Eric!'

Eric held up his hand.

'Look, just promise me you'll never, ever, EVER tell me what's in it. I want to forget this whole thing as quickly as possible.'

The others nodded.

'But are you gonna be alright, Eric?' asked Diana. There was no flippant answer from the Cavalier this time.

'I don't know,' he replied. 'I guess it's true when they say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger' Eric turned to Hank. 'But next time, we go ROUND the mountain, OK! Now, let's just get outta here!'

Dungeonmaster watched from the dark shadow of the door as they walked away, his fingers steepled.

'You have done well, Cavalier,' he murmured. 'You found the Key to their trust, and Dwarf-Lords do not forget. One day, you may yet be glad of this. For it is true "what does not kill you will make you stronger". You must all be stronger, to face the coming challenges…'

The End

* * *

Next: Wild Ride (very soon!)

The kids FINALLY catch up with Krin, only to find he's not as helpful as they thought he'd be.

* * *

Author's Notes.

On Troglodytes.  
These cute little creatures are straight out of the D&D Monstrous Manual, including their obsession with steel. But the specific details of their society were made to fit the story.

On Titles.  
The "In the Hall of the Mountain King" is the title of one of the Peer Gynt Suites by Edvard Grieg. You know, the one used in Manic Miner. And the Chapter 1 title is a mis-quote from Tolkien.

On Inactivity.  
Yes, I know this has been a long time coming. My apologies for being so lazy! But I got there in the end.


End file.
